Butterflies, Hurricanes
by K. A. Raith
Summary: #2 of Temporal Collision 'verse - He tries to find a niche in a timeline he doesn't belong to. [Time-travel fic. Sequel to 'Broken Reflection'. Ichigo-centric. Warnings inside. In progress.]
1. Prologue: Coming Home

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Bleach; __Kubo__ Tite__ does. I do, however, own the idea and plot behind this story._

_**Setting:**__ Massive AU post-Soul Society arc; massive AU post-chapter 418 for the future timeline.  
_

_**Warning:**__ Blanket spoiler up to the current manga arc__, possible m/f, f/f, m/m pairings or __ship-teases, __English isn't author's first language, un-__beta'ed__. Don't read further if you're uncomfortable with the aforementioned stuffs._

* * *

**Butterflies, Hurricanes**

**Prologue - Coming Home**

The sun had just risen when he stepped out of the Garganta, painting the early morning sky with soft orange and pink hue. Ichigo took a deep breath; Karakura wasn't the cleanest town by far, but compared to the stale and sandy atmosphere of Hueco Mundo, the slightly polluted air above the town smelt like heaven.

"It's been so long since I've seen the town this peaceful," the Other commented as he walked out of the dimensional tear a few seconds after Ichigo, his black, hooded traveling cloak fluttering slightly in the morning wind. Ichigo tilted his head back to glance at the older male.

"You said this place was destroyed during war," Ichigo prompted.

The Other nodded. "Ravaged to the ground four years from now during a skirmish between Aizen's army and Quincies."

Ichigo's frown deepened at that. He yelped when the Other suddenly flicked his forehead, apparently sensing the change in his mood.

"It won't happen," the Other said with firm certainty, ignoring his grumble. "The Quincies will still declare war since their conflict with Soul Society started one thousand years ago, but this time you'll be prepared."

"You mean _we_ will be prepared," Ichigo corrected, a bit miffed with the Other's self-exclusion. "_We_, because you'll still be around when the time comes."

The Other stared evenly from under his hood. "If you say so."

"I do say so," the younger of the two growled. "You're not going to... vaporize anytime soon. Urahara-_san _will find something to help." He reached out to grip the Other's cloak. "This is supposed to be your second chance, and it's only fair that you get to live through it. After all," he smirked, "if _I_ were _you_, I know that's what I would want, after all the problems I went through to go back."

The Other gave him a long, flat stare for that remark, before snorting and looked away. "Smart-ass."

"Takes one to know one," he shot back.

That comment earned him a rough ruffle on his head. He growled and swatted at the older man, but the Other easily twisted away and vanished in a string of consecutive _shunpo_, heading toward the northern side of the town where he knew Urahara-_san_'s place was located.

"Bastard," Ichigo grumbled under his breath, before breaking into _shunpo _of his own to catch up.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Short prologue is short. I've tried to make it longer, honest, but it didn't want to cooperate._

_The next chapter is on the way, and we'll see something from the Other's point of view sometime soon._

_Oh, and if you've read __**Broken Reflection **__before October 27, you might want to reread it; I've revised some parts and __added a few details._

_Anyway, tell me what you think.  
_

_**~Keylan **__**Raith**_


	2. Interlude 1: The Other Side of Equation

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Bleach; Kubo Tite does. I do, however, own the idea and plot behind this story._

_**Warning: **__Hints of gore, violence, and insanity._

* * *

_"If I don't wield the sword, I can't protect you._

_If I keep wielding the sword, I can't embrace you."_

_- Bleach Vol. 5 Poem_

* * *

**Butterflies, Hurricanes**

**Interlude 1 - The Other Side of Equation**

All he had ever wanted was to protect his precious people.

He fought for them, bled for them. Everything he had gained, everything he had sacrificed, was all for the sake of their safety. He trained and trained and _trained_, always pushing forward and forcing himself to surpass his own limit because he knew it would never be enough, because there would always be someone stronger than him, and he couldn't let himself be defeated because where that would leave them then? – and so his power grew and grew and _grew_, until he stood miles apart from everyone else, unmatched at the top. The mere aftershock of his blows could shatter mountains, and a slight pulse from his _reiatsu_ alone could grind lesser souls to dust. He was feared, held in awe – _untouchable_.

And yet...

Yet, even with such power at his disposal, he still couldn't save anyone.

* * *

_It was over._

He heaved a white-clad, mangled body onto the empty throne, not caring in the slightest that it dripped blood all over the ornate seat. Red haze clouding his eyes, he carved the usurper up and twisted and wound the red and white and gray bits to make a new crown for the dead man because _that gold and silk lining and gemstones don't suit you, Aizen, __**blood and bones and your own entrails do.**_

– _and maybe... maybe something with bright color, to offset all the red_, he continued absently, stepping back unsteadily from the throne while tilting his head a bit to admire his handiwork. _Silver, perhaps? A molten one, preferably, poured on the head to honor the only other person to ever come close in killing the man... and maybe some heartfelt speeches to go with that – __**'enjoy your new crown, fucker'?**_

That would be dramatic enough to even match Aizen's own flair.

He snickered.

_It was over._

Footsteps skidded to a halt behind him, and he dimly heard several sharp intakes of breath.

"Holy–"

"The hell...?"

Retching sounds were heard, along with some disgusted outcries. He doubled over, clutching at his stomach with his only functioning arm and laughed and laughed and _laughed_ at that because _fuck, years of fighting and struggling and killing, and they're still as squeamish as those fresh-faced, naive academy kids._

Footsteps scurried out of the room; he could smell a lingering trace of _fear_, and it made him laughed harder.

_It was–_

He laughed until he was out of breath, until the only sound he could make was a pained wheeze; tears streaming down his cheeks but he didn't care because _it was just so damn funny, his whole life and his power and his __**name **__was a fucking joke – because he'd won but only after he'd lost first and oh gods _oyaji _Yuzu Karin Rukia my friends everyone hurt crippled__ fucking__ dead_dead_**dead**__ can't save any why can't I protect them–?_

He slumped down onto the cold, bloodied floor.

_It was useless._

His sobs echoed in the empty chamber.

* * *

_All he had ever wanted was to protect._

_His blade struck true, cutting swaths through the enemies; it sang in the air, a glorious instrument of death and destruction. His was the name spat out in curses by his foes, whispered in reverence by his allies – the Black Demon, the Dark Guardian. Hero. _Monster._ He shaped himself as a nightmare wreathed in a black cloak of power and made the battlefield his home, hardening his resolve and his body and his heart for the sake of people under his protection – and he really wanted to stop, wanted to put down the blade he no longer could but he didn't dare to, because one more foe falling by his blade meant one less threat for his loved ones and what if one of them die because I didn't cut down this or that one–?_

–a flash of black blade, an arch of blood–

_And so the protector became an instrument of war._

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_I'm on a roll. Don't expect it to happen often, though._

_We get to see a glimpse of the Other's background. I'm trying to make him sound a tad bit unhinged here, does it work?_

_I don't really have a concrete plan for this story. That's not to say this story has no plot, mind you; major plot points are already planned, I know how this story will end, but everything else is flexible._

_So, in that vein, any ideas or requests you want to see written?_

_Reviews keep the author happy and healthy._

**_~Keylan _**_**Raith**_


	3. Chapter 1: Enter the Shopkeeper

_****__**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Bleach; __Kubo__ Tite__ does. I do, however, own the idea and plot behind this story._

_**Warning: **__Allusions to unfortunate things that may happen during a captivity, a bit info dump and some reveals, a bit dirty humor and allusion to m/m, the characters won't shut up._

* * *

**Butterflies, Hurricanes**

**Chapter 1 - Enter the Shopkeeper**

Urahara Kisuke hadn't expected to find what he found when he answered a knock on his front door that morning.

There was the main subject of his worry for the last two months, one Kurosaki Ichigo, standing in front of the _sh____ō_ten with a small, sheepish grin on his face. The teen looked normal and sane and healthy, albeit a bit unkempt. His _reiatsu _was, the shopkeeper noted in surprise, calm and fully contained instead of spilling around in waves like it used to be; it also felt even stronger than it was at the time of the teen's departure to Soul Society. All in all, he didn't look and feel like someone who had been kidnapped and held against his will for prolonged amount of time in the realm of Hollows.

While he was glad that the son of his old friend didn't seem to suffer any physical or emotional wound, it also made Kisuke suspicious. The rescue team sent to Hueco Mundo had reported about a cloaked man who might be Kurosaki-_san_'s captor or guard. Said man had been more than capable to fend off the whole rescue team – consisted of the teen's human friends, the teen's father, and Yoruichi-_san – _at the same time without visible strain, kick them back to Transient World, and do something to the border between worlds that prevented anyone from Transient World or Soul Society to reopen a new gateway to Hueco Mundo.

To this day, they still hadn't managed to figure out what the mysterious man do; the only good news was the fact that whatever it was, it had also prevented Hollows or Arrancars with _reiatsu _higher than a third seat officer from crossing the border.

The inability to pierce through the border to Hueco Mundo naturally had put a damper to the whole rescue mission. There was also the fact that Gotei 13 had marked the teen as a casualty of war and refused to lend any officer for future effort after the botched mission, which meant that even if they could open a gateway, it would be useless anyway since they would be lacking force to take on Kurosaki-_san_'s captor.

Now, Kisuke wasn't one to doubt Kurosaki-_san_'s determination or capability, but he still found it highly unlikely that the teen could escape by himself from such person, or open his own Garganta when the best collective efforts from both worlds hadn't been able to.

The teen in question shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and Kisuke realized he had been quiet for far too long.

"Kurosaki-_san_," he greeted cautiously, stepping outside. "I hadn't expected to find you here."

The teen's _reiatsu _wavered briefly. "Um. Surprise?" the teen offered.

"A surprise, indeed, Kurosaki-_san_." He narrowed his eyes. "The last time I heard, an unknown man had put you under a combination of torture and binding _kid____ō_ to prevent you from leaving. How did you escape from that man?"

The teen rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh. Yeah. About that. I didn't. Not really. Escape, that is. He sorta let me go, and then... I asked him to come along?"

"... What?"

Kurosaki-_san _deliberately flicked his gaze upward. Kisuke's inside went cold at that gesture; he immediately spun around, looking up and pulling Benihime out of her sheath at the same time.

His eyes found a cloaked, hooded figure on top of the _shōten_'s roof, sitting on the edge with both feet dangling in the air. The figure – _Kurosaki-_san_'s captor_ – tilted his head and sent a lazy wave at them.

"Surprise," the man said, echoing Kurosaki-_san_'s earlier word, only with a drier tone. His voice was a low tenor, and sounded younger than what Kisuke had anticipated. He expanded his sense to see what else he could find out, and it was then when Kisuke noticed that he couldn't detect anything from the man. There was no _reiatsu_, no intent, no presence – _nothing_.

It naturally made Kisuke even tenser.

"Kurosaki-_san_, _why _did you bring your captor home?"

"... You make it sound as if I'm an unwanted stray he picked up," the man on the roof pointed out. Kisuke ignored the man's words, turning his attention to the teen beside him while keeping a track of the man in his peripheral vision.

The teen rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, it's kinda a long story?"

"We have time, Kurosaki-_san_," Kisuke pointed out. "I'd really like to know why you think that bringing someone who had kidnapped and tortured you home is a good idea."

"Now that you mention it, it does sound rather stupid," the cloaked man idly commented. The teen on the ground threw the man an irritated glance.

"Are you going to keep sitting there and throwing annoying comments, or are you going to get down and help me explain anytime soon?" the teen demanded.

The man made a show of rubbing his chin. "I don't know," he mused. "Do you think I should go down? He looks like he's going to stab me if I make a wrong move." He gestured at Kisuke at the last remark.

"It's not like it's going to scratch you."

"I know, but I don't want to hurt such a fine lady."

Kisuke blinked at that strange statement, before realizing that the man was referring to Benihime. He frowned a bit; the man spoke as if he thought that Benihime would easily break, and as her wielder, Kisuke felt a bit offended on her behalf.

He tilted his head upward, staring sharply at the man from under the brim of his hat. "I thank you for your consideration, Kidnapper-_san_, but this princess isn't as fragile as you think."

"Oh, I don't doubt her strength for a second – I'm not _that _stupid," the man replied with amiable tone, "but the fact stands that if you were to attack me with her, there's a chance that she might get severely hurt in the process."

"He can break _zanpakut____ō_," Kurosaki-_san _helpfully explained from the side. "Not break as in destroying their weapon forms, but break as in affecting the spirits directly so that you won't be able to communicate with them or call on _shikai _or _bankai _for a long time."

"... What?"

"Oh, and trying to attack him with _kid____ō_ is useless, too," Kurosaki-_san _continued. "_Bakud____ō_ or _had____ō_, he can shrug off those like crazy. In fact, any _reiryoku_-based attacks won't work on him. I've seen him shrugged off a point-blank _Cero _from a Vasto Lorde-level Arrancar. You make the best shield ever, by the way." He directed the last part to the man on the roof.

"I aim to please," said man replied breezily.

Kisuke started to feel a bit overwhelmed. He wondered if this was how those people he had blindsided or baffled by his antics over the years felt.

He decided he didn't like the feeling.

Kurosaki-_san_ peered at him in mild concern.

"You okay, _geta-b____ō_shi?"

"I..." he shook his head, trying to clear his mind, before rounding on the teen. "Kurosaki-_san_, it didn't occur to you that someone like that might be a bit _too_ dangerous to be let in into this town?"

"Well, yeah, _if _he were a threat to the town. But he isn't."

"Kurosaki-_san_–"

"No, really! He isn't a threat." The teen pointed a finger at the man on the roof. "You tell him," he ordered the man.

"Urahara Kisuke, I've come to Karakura bearing no ill will," said man intoned in a solemn tone.

A brief, incredulous silence followed.

"That's not what I meant!" Kurosaki-_san _pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're not even trying to make any effort to make him stop suspecting you. It's as if you don't care whether he'll help you or not," he pointed out accusingly.

The man shifted slightly. Kurosaki-_san_'s eyes widened at something only the teen understood.

"You _promised_!"

"I only promised that I won't waste away in a dump somewhere," the man said, "it doesn't mean I have to make a conscious effort to blend in."

Kisuke temporarily put down his wariness to watch the byplay with interest. _How... curious_. Apparently the man had some kind of debilitating conditions, and Kurosaki-_san_, being Kurosaki-_san_, felt the need to help the man even after said man kidnapped and did gods-know-what to him – and it also looked like they needed his expertise for that.

Kurosaki-_san_ crossed his arms. "You can start trying now."

The man went silent for a few moments, before turning his attention to Kisuke. "Have you ever notice that it's a bit difficult to refuse him?" he asked the shopkeeper rhetorically. "You try by keeping reminding yourself of who he is, and for a moment it'll work because he's still such a brat, but then he'll say some honest and earnest things with the most intense expression you've seen and the next thing you know, you're following him home. It's a bit creepy being on the receiving end," he paused, and then muttered, "and I'm supposed to be _immune_."

Kisuke didn't quite know how to reply to that. Beside him, Kurosaki-_san_ briefly ducked his head down, looking a bit flustered, before looking up with a scowl.

"So, does that mean you'll try?"

"... Fine." The man sighed. "You know about Dangai, Kisuke," the man started, surprising the shopkeeper with the ease shown in using his first name. "You know what it's famous for."

Kisuke nodded. Dangai used to be a place to where unsavory or unwanted individuals or clans from Soul Society were banished. The _k____ō_ryū and _k____ō_totsu were initially created as their metaphorical prison bars. Nowadays, the dimension served as a deterrent for any unsanctioned journey between Transient World and Soul Society. The effects the _k____ō_ry_ū_ and _k____ō_totsu had on the dimension also made it an appropriate place to conduct experiments about time flow. One of the most popular studies was about whether it was possible to manipulate the dimension's time current for–

His eyes widened in realization.

_Oh_.

He looked up, wordlessly asking for confirmation.

The man inclined his head. "I've seen the end of the universe," the man said, so softly that Kisuke had to strain his hearing. "It wasn't pretty." He gave a small shrug. "So I came back."

Kisuke frowned. "And your first act after coming back was to kidnap a teenager who had just come into his own power barely one month before, instead of contacting someone more equipped to deal with information you brought – no offense to Kurosaki-_san_," he said pointedly. "I'm sorry, Kidnapper-_san_, but I still find it a bit unbelievable."

"You want a proof, then?"

"If you can give me one."

The man tilted his head. "I've seen your precious princess spread... _death _and _destruction _across the battlefield–"

Kisuke breathed in sharply at the emphasized words. Kurosaki-_san _blinked. "Princess– you mean Benihime?"

"No," the shopkeeper answered faintly. "He means my _bankai._"

He had only released his _bankai _– his magnificent, beautiful, _terrifying bankai_ – two times over the years; the first time was when he gained it, and the second time was when he was asked for a demonstration as a part of his test for captaincy. Each time was witnessed by only a few people, all of them were captains. Granted, the name of each captain's _bankai _was recorded and it was possible to guess what one _bankai _was like just by knowing said name, but the access to the record was limited to captains of Gotei 13, and he was sure that this man wasn't one of them – which meant that this man was telling the truth.

He really had seen Kisuke's _bankai_ – sometimes in the future.

"I can tell you something else, if you're still not convinced," the man went on. "For example, Kisuke, you _shave _regularly."

Kisuke wondered how such trivial fact was supposed to convince him. Besides, it was a bit inaccurate. He shaved, yes, bu he only did it when his stubble had grown too much and started giving him what Yoruichi-_san_ had called 'homeless man vibe'; it just wasn't something he did often enough to be called 'regular'–

He caught the man's pointed silence, and things suddenly clicked in his mind.

–_oh._

_Oh._

_He means _that _kind of shaving._

Apparently, Kurosaki-_san _also realized it at the same time he did, because the teen's face suddenly turned almost as red as Abarai-_fukutaich______ō_'s hair.

"Wh– the hell– why would–" the teen sputtered. "_Pervert_!" he pointed an accusing finger at the man.

The man shrugged. "It was a desperate time."

"Yeah, but– why _would_ you– with _Urahara-_san?"

The man tilted his head, and Kisuke got the feeling that he had just been given a once-over. "He isn't bad-looking."

Despite his antics or claims, Kisuke wasn't a vain man; his pride was in his intelligence, not his looks – yet he couldn't help but felt a bit flattered. The man had sounded very honest, as if stating a fact, even though he probably just said that to rile Kurosaki_-san_ up.

It was another sticking point, the teen's reaction. It was as if the teen made everything the man said or did personal, which was odd. Kurosaki-_san _normally wasn't one to intrude on another people's private matters, except when those matters threatened the safety of people he cared about.

_Unless_...

Suspicion bloomed inside his mind. It would fit with all the facts, such as why the man had chosen to get a hold of Kurosaki-_san_ first, and why Kurosaki-_san _seemed to trust the man completely, but–

"–but it's impossible."

The two stopped their bickering – or more precisely, Kidnapper-_san _stopped riling the teen up and Kurosaki-_san _stopped responding in embarrassed shouts – and turned their attention to him.

"What's impossible?" the teen asked.

Kisuke didn't answer, merely staring at the two of them back and forth with intense scrutiny, trying to discern any tell or clue that would confirm or deny his suspicion.

The man on the roof chuckled. "Oh, I think he gets it."

The teen looked up. "Gets what?"

"My identity."

"Really?" The teen sent an impressed glance at Kisuke's direction.

"But it's theoretically impossible, Kidnapper-_san_," Kisuke protested. "In any study we've conducted... when a subject arrives in the timeline in which its younger version exists, a temporal merging always happens; it is one of the universe's ways to prevent a temporal paradox, and it's impossible to avoid – _what _kind of method did you use?"

The man sighed. "I _know_ what was supposed to happen; I came back fully prepared for _that_. You _can't_ imagine my reaction when it didn't happen," he answered a bit testily. "And I was so looking forward to having a fully functioning right arm, too," he added in an almost inaudible mutter.

Kurosaki-_san _looked away with a faint grimace at that.

"As for the method I used... I nicked it from the library of a man with a fancy seat," the man continued. "A _really _fancy seat." He then gave another pointed silence.

Kisuke froze.

"You can't mean–?"

"It's exactly _who _I mean," the man said before he could finish his question. "It was a really bad time, Kisuke."

Kisuke slowly sheathed back his _zanpakut______ō_, feeling a bit numb; his mind whirled with thoughts and theories and suspicions. He then looked up and fixed the man a terse gaze.

"I think... I think it's better that we continue this inside."

"Finally!" the teen threw his hands in exasperation. "We've been standing here _forever_."

Kisuke glanced around and found out that they, indeed, had been standing outside for quite a long time. The sun, which had just risen when he stepped outside, was now hanging at a considerable height from the horizon.

The cloaked man – _Kurosaki-_san_'s older self_, he reminded himself – jumped down from the roof. Kisuke heard a faint clinking sound when he landed, like several small and metallic things brushing against each other. He filed away the observation for later and stepped back into the _sh______ō_ten.

"You may come in, Kurosaki-_san_," he said to the teen, before turning his gaze at the other man. "Kurosaki-_san_."

He led the way past the merchandise shelves, thinking that perhaps they had no more big surprise for him that morning, but then the older Kurosaki-_san_ dropped another bomb in a very casual tone – as if it was just an afterthought.

"Oh, Aizen's dead, by the way."

Kisuke decided that today just wasn't his day.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_I'm not satisfied with this piece. This feels... kinda sloppy to me. I don't know. A chapter with nothing but talking, and they didn't even change location. I've tried to cut it short and made them go inside already, dammit – but Urahara wouldn't stop being suspicious and kept analyzing everything, and the Other insisted on being all mysterious and kept snarking._

_Damn you, characters, damn you._

_On the other hand... I've put some tidbits in it, which would be relevant in later chapters.  
_

_Anyway, reviews, please? And tell me if there's any grammar or pronunciation glitch, or any unfinished or weird sentence. I've proofread the chapter, but I might've missed something, and extra eyes would be nice._

_**~Keylan Raith**_


	4. Interlude 2: Aftermath

_********__Disclaimer: __I don't own Bleach; Kubo Tite does. I do, however, own the idea and plot behind this story._**_  
_**

_**Warning: **Er, mildly depressive content? Otherwise, none._

* * *

**Butterflies, Hurricanes**

**Interlude 2 - Aftermath**

Kisuke and Byakuya found him two days after Aizen's death.

The celebration was in full swing. News had come from the Quincy front earlier that afternoon about their victory over the white crusaders, and some people who weren't emotionally or physically crippled from the last battle had decided that a party was a good idea – the last show of jubilation before everyone's imminent breakdown, so to speak. Various alcoholic beverages were distributed, and the makeshift army base was soon filled with chatters and laughs and other forms of camaraderie that couldn't quite hide the hysteria and sense of loss beneath.

He sat apart from everyone else on the edge of the clearing, staring unseeingly at an unopened bottle of _umeshu _on the ground in front of him – a bottle one of the _shinigami _had so generously, _cluelessly_ procured for him earlier. He had to commend the guy for his guts, though; not many of them dared to approach him these days, not even the ones that had boasted of how they could go toe-to-toe with a Vasto Lorde, and that small, mousy-looking _shinigami _had done exactly just that with only a nervous smile to show.

Maybe that guy hadn't heard of what he'd done to Aizen's corpse.

His musing was interrupted when his sense registered two familiar _reiatsu _nearby, approaching his place at a sedated but steady pace; one reminded him of carnage and candy, while the other one carried a hint of spring breeze and air of refinement. He ignored the two signatures, quite content to keep staring at the bottle, until they stopped right in front of him, looming over him and breaking his focus.

"Mind if we sit here?"

He shook his head and looked up, taking in their appearances. Kisuke looked a bit more haggard than usual, but otherwise healthier than most people he had seen. Byakuya, on the other hand, looked like he had just gone through several rounds with his own _bankai_ and only survived by the skin of his teeth.

He blinked. Come to think of it, he knew that the Quincies could steal _bankai_, and the noble was one of the captains in charge of holding them off – Byakuya's wounds might have _really_ come from facing Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.

"Are you sure you're allowed to be out of bed already?" he asked the last Kuchiki, eyeing all the bandages.

The noble gave a haughty glance and sat down, Kisuke following suit. "My injuries are not as severe as they look."

He gave the noble a long stare, before shrugging. "If you say so," he said, letting the matter drop. His gaze returned to the previous object of his contemplation. "I'd toast you for your victory over the Vandenreich," he said slowly, inclining his head at the lone bottle, "but you know about my condition."

Byakuya flicked his gaze at the bottle. "Did someone gave you that?"

"He didn't mean to insult, I'm sure. He probably didn't realize what he'd done." He propped his chin with his left hand – the only hand he could use for things other than cutting down enemies. "Not many knows I can't consume any food or drink made in Soul Society without it turning into ash inside my mouth, after all."

Sustenance from Transient World were also out of the question for him. He couldn't ingest them without being in a physical body, and they still hadn't managed to locate where his was hidden. Using _gigai _was not an option; his still-existing bond with his physical body made synchronizing with any _gigai _difficult if not downright impossible, not to mention the fact that their scientists hadn't yet managed to create one that could contain him without falling apart shortly afterward.

Kisuke might be able to do better, but the ex-shopkeeper had been very busy with his duties as Tenshuhei's captain commander and the co-head of R&D Division, and he didn't want to add another load to the man's shoulders.

He caught Byakuya's uncomfortable glance and Kisuke's guilty look before they managed to regain their composure. His brows furrowed into a small frown at that. Really, their reaction was a bit unnecessary. They weren't the ones who forced him to become the way he was now. They might be partly responsible for the circumstances, but he was the one who made all the choices. Sure, he had some regrets, but he wasn't too much of a jerk yet that he'd blame other people for his own shortcomings.

"So," he drawled, breaking the uneasy silence, his gaze flicked between his fellow captains, "what business do you have with me?"

Kisuke whipped out his old fan – how it had survived the war, he had no idea – and waved it across his face. "Can't this old captain just visit his favorite student?"

He raised one unimpressed eyebrow.

The ex-shopkeeper sighed. "Have you noticed the current condition of our worlds, Ichigo-_san_?"

He nodded. It was hard not to. The lines between dimensions had gotten so blurred, he could gaze at the horizon from one dimension and caught the sight of other dimensions superimposing over each other. The atmosphere was also severely affected – weathers had become so bizarre and unpredictable lately. Diseases spread more easily. Children were conceived less and less every year, and most of them were dead at birth or born with birth defects.

"The universe is collapsing," Kisuke continued grimly. "The worlds are being dragged into each other without something to keep the balance in check."

He tilted his head. "I know," he said evenly.

His status as a transcendental being meant he was closer to the core of the universe than most souls. Since halfway through the war, ten years after his first involvement in the affairs of the afterlife, the only thing he had been able to feel from said core was a deep sense of loss, despair, and weariness – something that hadn't abated ever since.

It wasn't difficult to form a conclusion based on those impressions alone; the universe had lost its will to live.

His fellow captains looked surprised by his reply.

"You didn't seek me out only to tell me that, though," he continued, observing the two men closely.

The last Kuchiki inclined his head. "We have scoured what was left of Seireitei's library and my family's archive to find a way to fix this situation," the noble said carefully, "and we have only able to find one solution."

Gray eyes met his. On the noble's side, Kisuke lowered his head as if in regret.

"_Someone_ needs to claim the throne."

* * *

**Glossary**

**Tenshuhei (天朱兵; Celestial Vermilion Army): **A military organization formed to coordinate war efforts in a three-way conflict against Aizen's force and the Vandenreich.

**R&D Division: **Tenshuhei's equivalent of the now-defunct Gotei 13's Twelfth Division, led by Urahara Kisuke and Akon.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_The interludes are going to come hard and fast until most of the Other's past is revealed._

_Notice how I never referred to the Other by name (except when Urahara called him, but those don't count)? Yeah, I did that on purpose. I'll do it in every flashbacks or interludes if possible, because... even in the future, he ain't quite Ichigo anymore, and I want to show that._

_Don't worry, he'll gain a new name soon; I've thought up a suitable one for him – can't use 'Ichigo' and can't keep calling him 'the Other', after all.  
_

_The glossary is for original/non-canon concepts; I won't include any canon tidbits there.  
_

_Anyway, thanks for the reviews.  
_

_**~Keylan Raith**_


	5. Chapter 2: A Small Step

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Bleach; __Kubo T__ite__ does. I do, however, own the idea and plot behind this story._

_**Warning:**__ Allusions to improper things, inane conversations._

* * *

**Butterflies, Hurricanes**

**Chapter 2 - A Small Step  
**

"So, Aizen?" Kisuke prompted, turning around to face his guests after they stepped into the living room.

The time-traveler subtly straightened his stance, took a deep breath, and rattled off in brisk tone, "The ex-captain of Gotei 13's Fifth Division and the mastermind behind the Treason of Three Captains incident, Aizen Sōsuke, has been executed for his crimes at October 11, estimated time zero eight hundred. The execution was carried out solely by the current _shinigami__-__daik__ō_, Kurosaki Ichigo, on an order from the captain of Tenshuhei's Heavy Assault Division, Kurosaki Ichigo–"

Kisuke idly made a mental note of the time-traveler's strange title for later pondering. It was then when another part of the time-traveler's report hit him. His eyes widened, and he rounded on his younger guest.

"_You _defeated Aizen by yourself?"

He didn't say that out of condescension or disbelief; he was just very, _very _surprised. Aizen was an experienced, captain-level master manipulator with high proficiency in _zankensoki_ and a _zanpakutō_ with dangerous ability, while Kurosaki-_san_ had only been a _shinigami _for five months at most with just _zanjutsu_, _bankai_, and a large _reiryoku _reserve to rely upon. Logically, a battle between the two would've resulted in a victory for the former, not the other way around.

it figured that anything involving Kurosaki-_san_ wouldn't follow logic.

The time-traveler stopped his report at Kisuke's outburst, while the teen nodded in answer.

"In a straight battle?"

The teen nodded again.

Kisuke felt a bit faint. "... How?"

"I trained." The unspoken '_duh_' could be heard very clearly by the room's occupants.

"... Of course you did."

The time-traveler snickered under his breath. Kisuke threw him a wounded look.

"It's harder than it sounded, really," the teen spoke up, rubbing the back of his neck. "He almost got me several times... I think I only won because he underestimated me during the first half of the battle."

"Good," the older counterpart of the teen commented. "Keep being humble like that. Girls usually like down-to-earth boys. I'm waiting for some pseudo-children, by the way."

The teen made a strangled sound, his face reddening. His older self pointedly turned away from the display.

"You want the rest of the report?" the man asked Kisuke.

"Ah, yes. Go on."

"Where was I?" the time-traveler mused. "Ah, right. Aizen's accomplices and ex-captains Ichimaru Gin and Tōsen Kaname, of Gotei 13's Third and Ninth Division, respectively, have also been apprehended in the process. Tōsen was sent back to Seireitei to await judgement, while Ichimaru was released due to some... extenuating circumstances–"

The shopkeeper raised one eyebrow at that.

"–Aizen's Arrancar Army had been disbanded, with all of its top-ranked members, known as the Espada, neutralized," the time-traveler went on, "and the device known as the _hōgyoku _has been retrieved from Aizen's headquarter."

Silence followed. The time-traveler had shifted his stance back into a more relaxed one. Kisuke looked down after hearing the last part, feeling conflicted. On one hand, he was happy that his greatest failure hadn't fallen into wrong hands after Aizen's death; on the other hand, he was disappointed that it hadn't been destroyed during the battle.

_Of course it can't be _that_ easy._

"Here."

He looked up just in time to catch the orb thrown at him by the time-traveler. He idly rolled the orb on his palm, and it was then he realized that there was something missing from the object.

It felt... _dead_.

He drew a sharp breath and tried to get a reaction by pushing some of his _reiryoku _into it.

Nothing happened.

He stared numbly at the unresponsive _hōgyoku_, before looking up. "How...?"

For years, he had tried everything he could think of to destroy this object without success, even going so far as to knowingly sacrifice a fellow _shinigami _for the cause, and here this man-from-the-future was, showing the proof that he could do – _had done_ – exactly what Kisuke couldn't.

He still didn't quite know what to feel.

The time-traveler shifted slightly on his feet and shrugged. "Does it really matter how I did it? The important thing is that no one will be able to misuse it anymore."

The man then pointedly went silent. Kisuke waited for several moments, but it was clear that he would receive no further elaboration.

"Ah, very well, then." Kisuke tucked the dead orb into one of his sleeve, pushing aside his still-conflicted thoughts and acquiescing with the time-traveler's silent demand for not talking about the matter further. He gave an even, measuring stare to his guests for several moments, before stating, "I assume you don't come here just to drop surprising news."

"No." The younger Kurosaki-_san_ was the one who answered. "He," he jabbed his thumb in the direction of his older self, "needs a _gigai _and a new identity, among other things."

"'Among other things'?" Kisuke echoed.

The older Kurosaki-_san_ shrugged. "I have an existential crisis."

"What he meant to say is that he thinks he's fading– something about the universe actively rejecting anomalies or something," the teen explained, rolling his eyes at his older self's unhelpful answer. "We're wondering if you could find a way around that."

The shopkeeper hummed thoughtfully. "It will be very difficult, but not impossible," he said slowly. "It'll depend on the exact process behind this... 'fading' problem. I need to run a few tests first, if you don't mind?" He directed the last statement to the time-traveler.

"Not at all," replied the man.

"In that case..." Kisuke lowered his hat and moved toward the _shōji _screens that separated the room with other parts of the building, "we might as well go to my lab now."

* * *

"Take a seat, Kurosaki-_san_," Kisuke immediately said as they entered his workspace, absently gesturing at the lone examination table in the middle of the room. He paid a mere cursory glance at various trinkets and half-finished projects which were strewn across every other flat surfaces, before making a beeline to the row of boxes and shelves lining one of the walls to find the tools he needed.

"You know, any smaller than this and this room would've been called a dump instead of a lab," the time-traveler's voice piped up behind him, amusement coloring his voice. "There's a mess, and there's a _mess_."

"_Maa_, I've been too busy worrying about my young student's virtue in the hands of a certain _kidnapper _to do much organizing," Kisuke jibed lightly, pitching his voice into a mildly lecherous tone. He waited for the inevitable explosion, and sure enough, he wasn't disappointed.

"W-what the hell is that supposed to mean?" the younger version of Kurosaki-_san_ shouted. If he were to see the teen now, he was sure that he would find said teen sputtering and flushing in either indignation or embarrassment, or both.

"It means he thought I've done improper things to you," the older one helpfully explained in a stage-whisper.

"That's not what I'm asking about and you know it!" A huff was heard, followed by an unintelligible grumble, before the teen continued, "what I meant was... _how _could he think that you– you–" his words degenerated into what sounded like a mix between frustrated and embarrassed growl.

"Quite easily, Kurosaki-_san_," Kisuke chirped, putting down a cracked teacup that somehow had managed to find its way to his utility box. He hurriedly continued before the teen could formulate a retort, "A teenager, spending two months in the sole company of an older kidnapper – you couldn't help but wonder if... _something _happened."

The teen sputtered behind him, and he was sure he heard a snort from the time-traveler. The teen growled and mumbled something unintelligible, and the older version muttered something back – most probably a half-hearted placation judging from the way the man's voice practically dripped with insincere contriteness and not a small bit of amusement. He tuned them out when they began flinging jibes at each other in low tone, and dug deeper into the box; he was sure he had put it here after the last time–

"The tests don't involve dissection, right?" his older guest suddenly spoke up.

"What?" he asked back distractedly, squinting at a gray-and-neon-blue patch of metal visible underneath a roll of old cables, several fingers from a broken _gigai_, trinkets made of green glass, and what looked like a pair of tattered, shocking pink mittens. _Ah, there it is._ He pushed the unnecessary stuffs aside, his mind finally processing his guest's question. "Ah, no, I don't make a habit of dissecting living subjects, Kurosaki-_san_; I find it distasteful. No, nothing of the sort will happen in these tests. In fact, all you need to do is sit still... and maybe give a _reiatsu _and blood sample for further tests." He pulled the sleek-shaped equipment with a triumphant huff and turned around. "We'll start with..." he trailed off when he caught the sight of the now hood-less time-traveler.

One of the man's eyebrow rose. "Something wrong?"

Kisuke blinked, before waving his hand carelessly. "It's nothing, Kurosaki-_san_! I'm just surprised that you finally took off the hood. I thought you're going to keep acting all dark and mysterious for a while."

The time-traveler huffed while his younger copy snorted. Kisuke took in the man's appearance discreetly from under the brim of his hat. The first thing that drew his eyes was the tousled, vibrant-colored locks which were unmistakably Kurosaki-_san_'s. This version wore his hair longer and with uneven cuts – some parts sticking up due to their shortness, others reaching his jaw, and the longest part going a bit past his shoulders. The second thing was the lack of scowl or frown; this, together with the longer hair, softened his features considerably and made him look a bit more like his mother, in Kisuke's opinion. He also looked young, much younger than what Kisuke had estimated; he could probably still pass as the current Kurosaki-_san_'s taller twin, or his long-lost not-that-much-older older brother. His eyes, however, were very different from the current Kurosaki-_san_; it was as if something had lit them up from inside, turning their color from earthly brown to pale, _burning_ amber.

He suspected that said something was power – pure, almost uncontainable power.

"... Stop staring, _geta__-__bōshi_."

Kisuke shook his head, looking up to find one teen scowling in embarrassment, while the future copy of said teen looking on with a faint, amused smile on his lips.

"Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to. My mind wandered for a while there." He plastered a cheerful – and perhaps a bit demented, judging from the way the younger Kurosaki-_san_ subtly inching back – smile. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes; we'll begin the testing now, starting with this." He proudly brandished the tool he had been holding.

"... That's one ugly hairdryer," the time-traveler commented.

"This isn't a hairdryer!" He waved the tool around. "This is a scanner, Kurosaki-_san_, designed to read the density and fluctuation pattern of _reishi _in the environment. It's quite useless for detecting anything from a distance further than two meters, but very capable of producing a very detailed result from up close. I need to see how your _reiatsu _interacts with your surrounding first before I test anything else."

He turned the scanner on, before flashing a bright, maniacal grin at both of his guests.

"Now, shall we?"

* * *

**Glossary**

**Heavy Assault Division****:** One of Tenshuhei's battle divisions, led by Kurosaki Ichigo. The most diverse division in the term of its members' species, because its captain isn't too picky about his subordinates as long as they can hit and run (in context). This division specializes in devastating shock attack.

Also known among the ranks of enemies and allies alike as 'the Wrath of Gods' (神の怒り; _Kami__ no __Ikari_), a name given because the generic title 'Heavy Assault Division' doesn't quite illustrate the mind-boggling amount of destruction this division can wreak.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_This should've been titled 'in Which Nothing Happened'._

_I have no excuse. My muse went comatose on me few days ago. Writing this chapter was harder than pulling teeth._

_So, yeah. Nothing exciting happened. On the other hand, now you know (vaguely) what happened to Tōsen, Gin, and the __Espada__.  
_

_Review?  
_

_**~Keylan **__**Raith**_


	6. Chapter 3: One Blade

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Bleach; Kubo Tite does. I do, however, own the idea and plot behind this story._

_**Warning:**__ A bit angsty musing._

* * *

**Butterflies, Hurricanes**

**Chapter 3 - One Blade**

Two hours later, Kisuke distractedly ushered them out of the lab and told them to wait in the living room before closing the door on them, the shopkeeper's eyes never leaving the printed stack of test results in his hand. His younger self grumbled at this, but he had seen the way Kisuke kept sending him bewildered glances ever since the first test was done, and knew that the shopkeeper probably had only made them vacate the lab to give himself time to take everything in.

He might not understand most of the scientific terms Kisuke had thrown around, but even he knew that his existence in the current timeline had to have broken several fundamental and well-established rules of the universe – enough to give any scientist headache, judging from the way Kisuke's expression had steadily become more pinched as they went through tests after tests.

It was the main reason why he didn't mind being rather abruptly thrown out of the lab like that; he felt a bit bad for causing the shopkeeper more trouble. That, and he didn't think his leftover guilt would let him keep up his laid-back facade if he were to spend more time in Kisuke's vicinity.

When this Kisuke had sent him a grateful look for the destruction of _hōgyoku_, it took his long-crafted self-control not to just _blurt out_.

_Don't look at me like that. I don't deserve it._

_I betrayed you. I betrayed everyone. Do you know that?_

But of course this Kisuke didn't know. All he saw was an older version of his brash but trustworthy student, still trustworthy but much more calmer and powerful, coming back from the future to prevent Aizen and other potential threats from causing the end of the universe.

_"I've seen the end of the universe. It wasn't pretty. So I came back."_

He had never said the exact reason _why _he had come back. Everyone just assume that he did it to save the worlds.

_What a lie._

His cause wasn't noble. It was for a purely selfish reason – because he had needed to _get away_, and anywhere was better than a dying universe where everything he had cherished was _gone_.

Even parts of him that used to be his own _zanpakutō _and a nameless Hollow had agreed; the _zanpakutō _part hated the stagnation and rain the whole place had caused, while the Hollow part thought it had became too pathetic to live in.

It was just fortunate that he had found that scroll about time-travel theory when he was rummaging through the palace's library, accessible only to people like him – in other words, transcendental beings. The method in the scroll was untested, the failure rate was high, but he just hadn't _care_.

It was either dying or ending up someplace better; either way, he wouldn't have to see the proofs of his failures any longer.

So he had proceeded to make preparation – he hadn't been so stupid as to entirely discard the possibility that the method _might _be able to take him to the past, where his enemies would still be alive – left letters to some people so they wouldn't waste their time worrying about him, and _jumped _into it without a second thought.

He had been surprised when he _really _had ended up in the past, then _very _upset when he realized about the failed merging – but having parts that used to be beings that just _didn't _do self-pity meant he could only brood for several seconds before his own mind became fed up and firmly told him to _move forward and **start kicking asses.**_

So he had moved forward – the 'kicking asses' part he had saved for much later; a lot of stuffs had happened afterward, and somehow the Kid had managed to get him to follow back to Karakura, while his original intention were to hunt down the potential threats by himself before quietly go into hiding and wait for his inevitable end.

... He didn't _remember_ being _so _persuasive when he was _that _young.

Nevertheless, here he was, standing in the corridor of Kisuke's old place with the Kid – who painfully reminded him of his precious Kage no Kanshisha in the way he sought after his approval and looked up to him – and trying not to let his lingering guilt affecting him too much. He needed to be in his best condition, mentally and physically, if he were to be any of use for the Kid.

After all, he had made a promise to provide help to the best of his ability, and he wouldn't go back on it. It was the only thing he could offer to pay for his betrayal, his only chance to make up for his many failures – and maybe... maybe when he finally disappeared to wherever it was shadows went and reunited with others from the future-that-wasn't... they would see that he had _tried_, and forgive him for abandoning them–

–or he would just end up as scattered _reishi _in the air, losing himself forever to oblivion, in which case if would no longer matter whether they would forgive him or not.

... He really needed to stop being depressing; two-thirds parts of him didn't appreciate it.

"... Hey!"

He blinked, looked to the side and found his younger self scowling at him.

"... What?"

The Kid huffed. "That should be my question. You're sort of spacing out right there. What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, just thinking a bit." Forcibly pushing out morose thoughts from his mind, he gestured to the direction of the living room before the Kid could ask further. "Come on."

He made his way through the small corridor that would lead them to the more accommodating part of the building, instinctively putting his left hand on his younger self's shoulder to steer him along. He thought he saw the Kid leaning in slightly when he did that, but in the end decided that he must've been imagining things.

After all, he _remembered _how he was when he's at that age, and he certainly _wasn't _one to easily accept friendly touches.

He followed a left turn and ended up in a shorter hallway with a row of _shōji _screens on its right side. One of the screens was already half-way slid open, revealing the _shōten_'s small living room.

The room brought up nostalgic memories.

They made their way inside, and his younger self immediately took a seat across the _shōji _screens. He followed, sitting down on the right side of the teen before letting his gaze wander to take in every detail he had missed earlier when they had briefly stopped in this room – small scratches on the table's surface, faint tea stains on the _tatami_, various items filling the small shelves and cupboards. His lips twitched into a small smile. _They _used to gather together here, in an easier time when all they needed to worry about were some stray Hollows and shady afterlife conspiracies, and not the fate of the whole universe.

A tug on his cloak brought him out of his brief contemplation. He tilted his head to the side, sending his younger self a questioning glance. The Kid gazed back at him with a deep scowl that held a hint of worry.

"Are you really okay?" There was an unspoken demand of a satisfying answer in that tone.

He raised an eyebrow. "Of course I am," he replied, wondering what the Kid's getting at. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just... back then..." the Kid sent an uneasy glance at the lab's direction.

_Ah. _That'_s what he's worried about._

"Don't worry." He couldn't resist ruffling the Kid's hair. The Kid, as usual, immediately growled in irritation and slapped his hand away. "Those stuffs that happened to me in the future? They won't ever happen to you. I'll make sure of it."

His younger self rolled his eyes at his answer, and that was definitely an exasperated scowl he was seeing. "That's not what I mean."

He quirked one eyebrow, silently asking for elaboration, but the Kid merely sighed and shook his head.

"Never mind," the Kid muttered, then in a louder voice continued, "So, you once mentioned something about using free _reishi_ to heal yourself?"

His younger self's obvious attempt to steer the conversation into a different topic drew a small frown from him. He resisted the impulse to flick the Kid between the eyes for the strange behavior, deciding to give the Kid a break for now, and instead started to explain the theory behind several healing techniques he'd invented.

* * *

When Kisuke entered the living room, it was to see both of his guests engaged in what looked like a very involving discussion about... active manipulation of outside _reishi_?

"That's Quincy technique," he pointed out.

_That _look would've been innocent if not for the eerie eye color. "Really?"

Kisuke gave his own _look_ in return.

The time-traveler's lips twitched, acknowledging his silent reproach. "It was quite a... surprise when it first manifested." A smirk bloomed. "Gave a certain faction in the army a fit."

The younger self lifted an eyebrow. "Ishida?"

The smile wouldn't have been out of place on a saint. "Near apoplectic," the time-traveler answered solemnly.

The younger self snorted. Meanwhile, a niggling piece of information carelessly spoken in the lab earlier made itself known to Kisuke.

"Didn't you say you also fought Quincies in the war, Kurosaki-_san_?"

Golden gaze flicked up almost lazily at him. "Hm? Oh, yeah. They call themselves the Vandenreich. I don't know what that was supposed to mean," he waved his hand negligently. "But they did use a... subtitle on their banners, and it said _miezaru teikoku_."

_Invisible empire_. _How fitting_, _if none of us have heard of them until now..._

He shelved the information for later perusal, and quirked an eyebrow at the time-traveler's particular choice of word. "Subtitle?"

The smile held a hint of amusement. "Do you know what they are like, Kisuke? Self-righteous, with a bad case of superiority complex mixed with racism, but most of all, they're very prideful," his tone turned dry, "and it's hard to be prideful when your enemy couldn't even spell the name of your army correctly or understand what it was supposed to say. The field officers gave up one year into the war and started attaching _katakana _reading and _kanji _alternative on all banners." He shrugged. "I didn't clash against them very often, only five or six times after their first appearance. They tried to recruit me in those times, though."

"... Pardon?"

"But you're _shinigami_, and–" the teen sent a nervous glance at Kisuke. The shopkeeper understood what he wanted to say.

_And Hollow. _Shinigami_ and Hollow. Two races Quincies hate the most._

"And I have a suspiciously Quincy-like ability," the time-traveler shot back. "Apparently, it's enough for them. They called me their 'lost child', you know, adrift in the world without a proper guidance, used by the filthy _shinigami_, doomed never to feel the enlightenment of the soul..." the wide-eyed innocent look was back. "Poor me."

Kisuke couldn't quite hold back the snort that wanted to escape.

"You said 'those times'... more than once?" the teen muttered. "Why did they want you so bad?"

"The Quincy clan they thought I probably descended from... they can reverse Quincy-inflicted wounds."

Kisuke blinked. _Beg pardon?_

"That's a big deal, I guess?" the teen commented hesitantly.

"Very big, Kurosaki-_san_," Kisuke answered before the time-traveler could, sitting down slowly across both young men. "Quincy weapons, they don't just maim the flesh; they also break the _reishi _bond that formed a spiritual body."

"It'd be like amputations instead of your usual wounds," the time-traveler elaborated. "When a _reishi _bond is disturbed... it'd be lost forever. The body won't _remember _how the lost part's supposed to be like, and so healing _kidō _would be useless."

"Because healing _kidō _works by restoring the patient's _reiryoku_ before letting said _reiryoku _do the rest," Kisuke added, "and if the body itself doesn't know its healthy state..."

The time-traveler inclined his head. "I know only one other thing that can fix that kind of wounds."

"Inōe's healing," the younger self whispered.

"'Hime's _Sōten Kisshun_ works by reversing something to the way it was before the damage. A rejection of events, I believe it's called. I know you already know this," he added to Kisuke.

Kisuke nodded slowly. "And this so-called wound-reversing?"

"Where the weapons disrupt, it rebuilds," was the time-traveler's short answer. "It takes in the healthy _reishi _bond around the affected area and reshapes the lost part based on said bond. It's no healing or event rejection, but a form of _reishi _manipulation. You manipulate _reishi _in the air to form a patch, and manipulate _reishi _inside the patient's body to accept the patch. Rumors said that the clan could heal even the most lethal wounds." He shrugged. "I can only heal small and moderate wounds on myself and a very few others whose _reiatsu_ was compatible with mine." An eyebrow was lifted. "_Untrained. _Apparently, that's too much advantage for our side that the Vandenreich can't just leave me alone."

_Fascinating_. Kisuke made a note to research Kurosaki-_san_'s human ancestry deeper later. He had known that Masaki-_san_ had a considerable amount of _reiryoku_, but this was something new altogether. Who knew, perhaps he would be able to find more about this technique, and figure out how to make it possible for non-Quincy to learn it...

"So, Kisuke," the time-traveler's voice cut off his internal musing, "you took your time coming out of the lab." The young man gave him an indecipherable look. "Test results weren't as you expected?"

_Found something that freaked you out badly? _was left unsaid.

"Your test results are... interesting, Kurosaki-_san_," Kisuke said carefully, "but they're not what I want to talk about now."

"They're not? I thought you'd have questions," the time-traveler commented.

"I have," Kisuke answered levelly. "But they can be addressed much later, if we're not in such a tight schedule."

An eyebrow hiked up. "Tight schedule?"

Kisuke gestured at the youngest male in the room. "Kurosaki-_san _wants to go home sometimes today, doesn't he?"

The teen blinked. "Ah... yes. Of course I do."

"You can go home right now, you know," the time-traveler told his past self. "There's no need for you to wait–"

The growl issued from the past self's throat stopped him from finishing his sentence.

"And that's why we need to wrap our discussion as fast as we can," Kisuke chirped.

The time-traveler gave the teen a _look_, and received an unrepentant glare as a reply. After a moment of trying to stare each other down, the older self looked away and sighed.

"What do you want to talk about, Kisuke?"

Beside him, the intensity of the teen's glare lessened.

"The identity you want to use for your cover story, for one; you _do _want to take up a life here, right?"

"I suppose I do."

"Then we need to build a plausible background for you." Kisuke took in the appearance of both of his guests. "You look too much alike to be a stranger; you need to take place as Kurosaki-_san_'s family member."

Both versions of his student glanced at each other with considering look.

"It has to be a close family member, no more than first cousin once removed or second cousin," Kisuke added, "I can only scramble a _gigai_'s apparent DNA so much before it starts to become unfit for the wearer."

"I can't be older brother, _obviously_, so I'll be a cousin from _both _side of the parents," the time-traveler answered slowly, "that would explain the resemblances to _kā-san _and _oyaji_. The father is _oyaji_'s deceased older brother; cause of death... a plane accident during a business trip abroad a few weeks before my supposed birth. They're estranged, so _oyaji_ almost never talk about him. Mother's _kā-san_'s twin sister; she'd just... passed away several months ago from sickness. _Oyaji _took me in since he's the only adult relative I've got left; that's the reason why I moved to Karakura. How's that?"

Kisuke waved his fan idly in front of his face. "It's a plausible story. It would also explain why your genetic makeup is very similar to Kurosaki siblings, in case someone thinks to look closer."

"You'll still be a Kurosaki too," the younger self added.

The time-traveler nodded. "That, too." He tilted his head. "You don't mind, then?"

The younger self blinked confusedly. "Why would I?"

"... Never mind."

"Good." Kisuke snapped his fan closed, tucked it into the fold of his clothes, and pulled out a notebook and a pen. "Let's expand that idea then. Date and place of birth?"

"Place's the same as him," the time-traveler answered promptly, gesturing at his younger self. "Mother's still in mourning around that time and wanted to stay close to _kā-san_. For the date... June 9."

He said it with soft, solemn tone. The younger self visibly jerked beside him, eyes widening.

"That's–"

"_Kā-san_'s birthday, yes."

Both young men fell silent after that; the older one's expression had blanked out, leaving a terrifyingly calm mask, while the younger one's was twisted in what looked like an old grief and guilt. Kisuke promptly lowered his gaze to the notebook in his hand at the sight, giving the young men a bit privacy. He might not be the most tactful person around, but even he knew not to intrude on what seemingly sensitive and personal matters.

"I arrived a week earlier that what you've thought, you know."

Kisuke peered up at the non-sequitur from the time-traveler. Said man was staring at the younger self, his amber-gold gaze soft.

"Wha–?"

"We don't look much different," the time-traveler continued, ignoring his younger self's confused stare, "and a... _certain _someone apparently held grudge and wanted a rematch. A certain someone... the only one who ever got away."

The teen breathed in sharply.

"So, we met, and this someone mistook me for you... and you know what he's capable of." He tilted his head. "And you know what _I'm _capable of."

The hopeful expression on the teen's face was almost painful to look at.

The time-traveler gave a small smile, and his resemblance to the late Masaki-_san_ couldn't be more pronounced. "One of these days, I'm going to show you where I'd been regularly disappearing to during our stay in Hueco Mundo."

The teen laughed shakily. "I thought you disappeared to raid Seireitei's supply warehouses?"

Kisuke lifted an eyebrow at that. He hadn't heard about any warehouses-raiding from Yoruichi-_san_. Either Kurosaki-_san_ was very good at sneaking in and out undetected, or the ones in charge of security and inventory were so incompetent they missed someone stealing from under their collective noses.

He had a suspicion it was a bit of both.

The time-traveler's smile vanished as his expression morphed into one of innocent confusion. It would've worked if it weren't for the amused glint in his uncanny gold eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The younger self snorted, bad mood forgotten, but he still snuck a glance at his older counterpart and muttered, almost too low for Kisuke to hear, "Promise?"

"Promise, Brat."

The scowl was back with vengeance. "I'm not a brat."

An eyebrow was arched in challenge. "You sure about that?"

Kisuke coughed loudly, trying to gain their attention and stop them from degenerating into another round of name-callings. Really, it couldn't be healthy to verbally abuse yourself _that _often, even if it was mostly done out of affection.

It was another sticking – and _very _fascinating – point, their interaction with each other. People generally wanted to go back to the past to fix what they thought as personal failures – he had heard rumors of ones who did it for fun, but that was beside the point – and their regret over said failures usually culminated in bitter resentment over what they thought as their past self's incompetence and inadequacy. Yet the older Kurosaki-_san _showed none of the ill-feelings; he seemed _very _determined to irritate his younger self at every opportunity, yes, but other than that, it looked like he was genuinely fond of his past self.

He mulled over this little bit of discrepancy before his mind helpfully reminded him that Kurosaki-_san_ was always the exception, not the rule.

With that realization, suddenly everything was alright once again.

Across the table, the two young men looked a bit sheepish – or to be exact, the younger one looked sheepish, while the older one looked vaguely apologetic but also unrepentant.

"... Where were we?"

"Birth date, Kurosaki-_san_," Kisuke answered patiently. "We have the day and the month; will you be in the same year as Kurosaki-_san _or older?"

The time-traveler hummed. "Older, I think," he answered slowly. "By one year." He quirked a small grin. "If you place me in the same age as him, it'd look weird when I do this in public." 'This' meant hair-ruffling, which he demonstrated with much relish despite his younger self's protest.

Kisuke nodded to himself and wrote down the year information. "Any preference for education record and medical history?"

"For education record... normal track; six years elementary school, three years middle school... I'll leave the details to you, just don't go overboard."

Kisuke hummed, making a note to himself to check the present Kurosaki-_san_'s grades for reference. "Do you intend to enter Kurosaki-_san_'s school, Kurosaki-_san_?"

"Might as well," the time-traveler replied. "Place me in the same year as him."

"But you're one year older," the teen pointed out. "You're supposed to be in second year."

The older male ran his fingers through his hair. "I've never finished high school, not even the first year. I won't be able to keep up if I'm placed in second year. Just make me repeat a year," he added to Kisuke. "After all," his lips curved into a wry smile, "I'm a delinquent."

The younger self snorted.

"As for medical history... I'm okay with whatever you'll cook up as long as you don't give me something terminal, highly contagious, or unpronounceable."

"You're going to regret that later. Just you wait, he's going to give you _embarrassing _diseases."

"_Maa_, Kurosaki-_san_, have you so little faith in me?"

The teen rolled his eyes. Kisuke ignored it and reread the notes he'd made. "We've talked about the family, date of birth, age, education and medical history... details will be added later..." he looked up. "Now, we need a given name."

"Anzu," the younger self immediately piped up.

"Fuck no," was the time-traveler's instantaneous, eloquent reply. He blinked and narrowed his eyes at the teen. "You've been thinking long about this problem."

"Well, yeah... it's obvious, isn't?" The teen shrugged. "New identity means you'd need a new name."

"I know that," the time-traveler said flatly. "I mean the name; you've been thinking about what name I should go with."

The teen took on a sheepish expression. "Um..."

"And the first thing that came to your mind is 'Anzu'."

"It's _tradition_!"

"I ain't going to name myself after a _fruit_!"

"'Ichigo' is also a fruit!"

"That's different. It has meaningful combination. You can't get the same with 'Anzu'. It'd be either senseless or too ostentatious."

His past self gave him a disbelieving stare. "... You shouted at me for suggesting 'Anzu'," the teen said flatly, "all while you yourself have been thinking up passable kanji combinations for it?"

A faint flush crept up on the time-traveler's face.

Kisuke chuckled at that. _So there's still an awkward young man under all that_. "Can I assume that you've made the same consideration with other fruit names?"

If possible, the flush darkened. "They're all out," the time-traveler mumbled.

"But you've thought about other alternatives?"

The young man sighed. "I was thinking 'Kazumori', but," he glanced at his younger self, "that'd be a dead giveaway– well, _more _than my looks would be... and I don't want too many people knowing or even suspecting about the whole time-travel business."

"It's a dangerous knowledge that shouldn't fall to the wrong hands," Kisuke mused.

"Exactly."

"Well, take your time thinking up a name, then, Kurosaki-_san_." Kisuke gave a lazy gesture. "You're the one who have to live with it, after all."

The time-traveler rolled his eyes. "I know that." His face took on a contemplative expression, and he stared appraisingly at the younger Kurosaki-_san_.

"What?" the teen asked, shifting slightly in his seat.

"Nothing," the time-traveler replied, still staring. "And stop fidgeting so much."

"Stop staring at me, then." The teen's perpetual scowl deepened. "_Why _are you even staring at me?"

"I'm trying to find... something." The older self looked up and sent a sidelong glance at Kisuke before going back to staring, indicating that Kisuke was included in the conversation. "You know... fundamental similarity, fundamental difference; what makes us one and separate us? _Ichigo_... is a protector," he directed the last statement to his younger self, his tone imploring.

The teen blinked confusedly. "Well, yeah... _you _of all people _know_ that already. What are you getting at?"

The time-traveler sighed. "You, all of your life... you shape yourself around that name, define yourself with it... try to live up to its meaning even now..."

"And you don't?"

"It was _war_. Everything had different rules, different standards... and to protect people you care about during a war, more often than not you had to..." the time-traveler trailed off, frowning to himself and shaking his head. "In the future I came from, people called me _'Kuroi Shugoshin_'... but there were also those who called me '_Kuroi Akuma_'," he continued in softer tone, his sudden smile was sharp and brittle. "Three guesses as to what kind of things I've done to get that kind of reputation."

The younger Kurosaki-_san_ swallowed at the implication.

"So," the older one shrugged, "what I want to say is... I've tried. I've tried and tried and... still failed anyway. Guess it's just not possible for me to... go back to being _Ichigo_."

"Because over the time you've slowly defined yourself as something else," Kisuke surmised.

The time-traveler inclined his head in confirmation.

"And what would this something be?"

The corner of the time-traveler's mouth quirked up into a wry smile. "Ah, that's the question, isn't it? What am I now, if no longer a protector?"

"A teacher?" the younger self half-asked, half-suggested. He ducked his head when his older self raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked defensively. "You'd make a good one."

The time-traveler snorted. "The reason why I'm so good at teaching _you _is because I already know what would work and what wouldn't, Brat."

"Ah," the teen mumbled, looking embarrassed at this oversight. Kisuke grinned slightly and decided to pitch in.

"Why, Kurosaki-_san_, if being a 'teacher' won't do, you can always try to be a 'time-traveler'!"

Said time-traveler leveled him a _look_.

"A... warrior?" the younger self offered after a few seconds of silence. "I mean, you said you've spent _years _fighting in a war, so..."

"Kurosaki-_san_ might be onto something, there," Kisuke commented.

The time-traveler hummed noncommittally. "Perhaps."

"You disagree, then?"

Gold eyes blinked at him. "While war had been my... _life _for two decades, I don't think that title suits me." Fingers ran through unruly locks. "I fit the description, yes, but so does every other person in the army. It's not... it's too broad, too generic a title–" he waved his left hand, fishing for a more apt explanation.

"It's not an adequate term to describe yourself," Kisuke offered.

"Yes, that." The young man slid a glance at his younger self. "But you're right on track about war. It's the thing that shaped me to who I am, after all. Two decades of... _things_," the wry smile was back, "long enough to make me forget I'm ever a protector."

Kisuke inwardly winced in sympathy at the younger self's pained grimace. The time-traveler apparently also noticed the teen's discomfort, because his left hand suddenly perched itself on top of the teen's shoulder in a comforting gesture. Only Kisuke noticed that the gesture somehow made the teen look even more pained. The teen gently shrugged off his older self's hand and cleared his throat after a few moment.

"So, what do _you _have in mind then?"

The time-traveler took on a thoughtful expression once again at that question.

"Why don't you walk us through about your participation in the war, Kurosaki-_san_? What was your role?" Kisuke suggested lightly. "Maybe we can find something that way."

The time-traveler looked down. "My role, huh?" He ran his gloved left hand through his hair, sighing. "I was... one of the fighters capable of dealing very significant damages to enemy forces," he paused, before muttering, "_of course _I'd be, with power like mine..."

He shook his head. "Anyway, I wasn't a captain from the start, just... sort of a free agent for five years, unattached to any division... I fought where I'd be needed the most, on the front line more often than not... and I was one of the few who could turn the tide of battle just by being _there_."

"An ace," Kisuke murmured. "Visible and known, yet still very effective nonetheless... a–" he cut himself off when he saw the time-traveler taking on a thoughtful look. "Have you thought of something, Kurosaki-_san_?"

"Maybe," the young man answered, voice soft. "I don't think you'd like what I'm thinking, though." He directed this at his younger self.

The teen frowned. "Bad?"

"Depends." The time-traveler looked down, mildly frowning at the table. "The thing about war is... after a certain amount time you'd sort of–" he trailed off in the way of someone who was having difficulty in placing thoughts into words, before shaking his head and continued from different angle. "For me, it was... I managed for a while; the battles were hellish but I managed... but then the war went on and on and _on_... and people– people died left and right... enemies kept coming at us and it wasn't enough just to– I had to–" he cut himself off, sighing, "_and _I was getting so tired..."

Kisuke had a feeling he wasn't talking about physical exhaustion.

"... you kept telling yourself it'd stop, that the next time you go you wouldn't see– but there's this thing called suspension of disbelief," his voice was tinged with dark, wry humor, "and day by day, you kept seeing and hearing and even _sensing_ it deep in your bones– and it's getting easier to– to just... _do _and leave the decision-making to someone else... to let someone else _wield _you."

"'Wield'...?" the younger self murmured in slightly perplexed tone. His eyes widened in realization a moment later, and he made a protesting sound as he faced his older counterpart. "That's not– you _aren't_–"

A gloved hand on his shoulder cut the teen off. The time-traveler tilted his head upward, lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile. "Pen and paper, if you'd please?" he asked Kisuke calmly.

Kisuke took note of the young man's expression, slowly handing out both objects. Beside the time-traveler, the younger Kurosaki-_san_ huffed in apparent objection.

"I really don't think–" the teen began, but the time-traveler's hand moved to the teen's head, ruffling it briefly in a gesture that clearly told the teen to be quiet, before taking the offered pen and paper from Kisuke's hand and placing both items on the table. His face briefly took on a considering expression; he bent over the paper and and carefully wrote two kanji on it, before adding _furigana _above them.

"There," he said as he put down the pen, his tone oddly solemn and his smile indecipherable. "It's who I am now."

"It's _not_," the younger self muttered angrily. "You– you're _more _than just a–" he gestured at the paper, displeasure clearly written across his scowling feature.

Curious, Kisuke leaned over the table to read the written kanji upside down, which was easily done due to the chosen kanji's simplicity – only four strokes in total, the first character was the kanji for 'one', while the second character–

_Oh my. No wonder Kurosaki-_san_'s upset._

"Are you sure about this, Kurosaki-_san_?" Kisuke asked slowly.

"It covers many things," was the time-traveler's indirect answer. "One of the clearest implications..." he left his words hanging, tapping his right upper arm.

The two of them were reminded of the third occupant by a loud, frustrated sigh. The youngest male in the room ran his fingers through his hair and sent a displeased glare at his older counterpart.

"I don't like this– no, you shut up for once," he growled out when the time-traveler opened his mouth. Kisuke hid a smile behind his fan at the burst of assertiveness the teen showed toward the older self. "I know; your life, your choice... doesn't mean I have to like it... and _that _name's _wrong _on so many levels, and you– but–" he cut himself off and sighed, anger dissipating from behind brown eyes. "But I can see that you're _trying_, just like you said you would– and it's a step in the right direction, or something... and it's not like I don't know that you– you're a bit–"

"Messed up?" the time-traveler quietly offered.

The teen gave the time-traveler a _look_, and the older male actually quailed a bit. "I was going to say 'lost'," he bit out.

"'Lost'...?"

The teen shrugged. "You learned a lot in two months," was his vague answer.

"Ah." The time-traveler's tone was neutral.

The teen made a sound that conveyed mild displeasure and rueful exasperation. "You're _impossible_," the teen announced, brazenly ignoring how hypocritical that sounded. "Anyway... what I'm saying is... I'll make you _remember_. I'm going to try to change your mind... about– you're _not_–" he gestured sharply at the paper where the time-traveler had written his new name. "I'm going to try, and I'm going to _win_. After all," his expression turned smug, "I _did_ succeed making you follow me home."

The time-traveler tilted his head, observing the younger male. Kisuke watched surreptitiously as the teen began to fidget when the older self kept staring without saying a word.

Then slowly, a tiny smile stole its way across the time-traveler's expression.

"That's right... you did, didn't you?" he said softly, a tinge of fondness seeping into his voice. His hand snaked up and ruffled the teen's hair. Said teen squawked and sputtered in indignation, growled out some unflattering words about the older male, and suddenly everything was normal once again.

Kisuke smiled indulgently at them from behind his fan, before clearing his throat. "It's decided, then, Kurosaki-_san_?"

The two of them stopped bickering and glanced at each other. The older one sent a questioning glance at his counterpart, who answered with a huff and eye-roll.

"I think it is..." the time-traveler slowly said.

"It's _just_ a name; it means _nothing _more than that," the teen muttered. "I'll make sure it'll stay that way."

Kisuke beamed.

"Good! Now that it's over with... let's talk about specifications for your _gigai_... Kazuha-_san_."

* * *

**Glossary**

**Kage no Kanshisha (****陰の監視者****; Shadow Watchers/Shadow Guardians):** A group of artificial souls created by Urahara Kisuke, using portions of Kurosaki Ichigo's _reiryoku_ as base material. Also known as the _kagemusha _(影武者), reflecting their original function before they're drafted as additional manpower.

**Titles:**  
Kuroi Shugoshin (黒い守護神) - Dark Guardian Deity.  
Kuroi Akuma (黒い悪魔) - Black Demon.  
Titles that Kurosaki Ichigo's future self gained during the war in the future.

**Name Suggestions:**  
Anzu - the default meaning is 'apricot'.  
Kazumori (一守) - the kanji respectively means 'one' and 'protect'.

**Kazuha (****一刃****):** The kanji respectively means 'one' and 'blade'. The name itself can be interpreted as 'he who is a blade' or 'he who is one with his blade'. New given name of Kurosaki Ichigo's future self.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_It's been so long? Um._

_This chapter fought me in every turn, and I've been sick and depressed (the clinical kind, not the melodramatic kind), so..._

_On a brighter news, have watched Rur__ō__ni Kenshin's live adaptation. It's glorious._

_Anyway, chapter's longer than usual. Much longer. More than 5,500 words. It's supposed to be longer, around 7,000 words, but then it kept going and going and going and I really wanted to post it sometimes this lifetime so I had to cut some parts off._

_So, Kazuha. One blade. It calls back to the first interlude, plus alludes to his merging with Zangetsu. And that name has four strokes in total. There's no such thing as too much symbolism._

_Review? What do you think of future!Ichigo's new name?  
_

_**~Keylan Raith**_


	7. Interlude 3: A Scientist's Musing

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I don't own Bleach; Kubo Tite does. I do, however, own the idea and plot behind this story._

_**Warning:**_ _Nonsensical ramblings trying to sound scientific, tree (no, really)._

* * *

**Butterflies, Hurricanes**

**Interlude 3 - A Scientist's Musing  
**

The lab's door clicked shut, and the sound of fading footsteps indicated that both of his guests had vacated the immediate vicinity. Kisuke sighed, pushed his hat back a bit so the brim wouldn't hinder his sight and reread the printed test results, this time more carefully. He was a bit surprised that his hands were still very steady; then again, he had come to expect something out of the norm when it came to Kurosaki-_san_, so _this _level of absurdity hadn't been enough to shock him.

... Oh, who was he trying to kid?

_There's something seriously _wrong _with the young man's soul._

The first major thing that had set off the warning bell in his mind was the estimated age of the time-traveler's soul.

At first, he had assumed that the time-traveler wasn't that much older from the current Kurosaki-_san_. When he found out about said time-traveler's real age, he had been surprised, but not alarmed. It was a common knowledge that souls aged at a slower rate, especially if the connection with their physical bodies had been severed. When the time-traveler revealed that he was still linked with his physical body by the time of his journey to the past, he began to feel suspicious, but rationalized it by telling himself that it wasn't uncommon for strong souls to age much slower – conveniently ignoring the small part of his mind which reminded him that those strong, living souls had reached past their prime before their aging halted or slowed down, and Kurosaki-_san_ clearly hadn't even finished maturing.

It was when they had done a reading to determine the general condition of the time-traveler's spiritual body that his mind balked and started blaring out warning signals.

The young man's looks said eighteen at most, and his real age was thirty seven – but the reading had given Kisuke a number around four hundreds.

_... Which just _doesn't _make sense, because souls just _don't _work that way_.

After staring numbly for several seconds, he had asked – he was a scientist, and he was _curious_, so of course he needed to ask – and the answer had chilled him.

_"They had experimented on me."_

It was accompanied by a nonchalant shrug, as if what had done to him didn't matter. It was after the younger self had sent an accusing and slightly betrayed glower at Kisuke's direction that the time-traveler decided to elaborate.

_Scientists. Under order from Central 46. Using a skirmish as distraction to steal the physical body and stow it away in a hidden lab. Indirect experiments using link between soul and body._

_"They're afraid; __Aizen's_ _trouncing captains left and right... and so they wanted a weapon... one strong enough to take on anything thrown its way."_

_A leverage to ensure cooperation – obey or they'd order their scientists to destroy his power._

_"What was I supposed to do? __Aizen's_ _still at large, Hollows and __Arrancars_ _were dropping from the sky all day and night. Whether their threat held bites in it or not... I _couldn't _risk disobeying, couldn't risk losing my power like that; how was I supposed to protect people without it?"_

The younger Kurosaki-_san_ had then said, in outraged tone, that he couldn't believe the older self let them get away with it. The time-traveler's smile had looked positively _dark _at that.

_"Oh, no. I simply waited. Then I slipped in during __Quincies__' attack and took a page from __Aizen's_ _book."_

From the look of it, the time-traveler didn't regret this act one bit. The younger self had then turned very, _very _quiet, which hadn't went unnoticed by the time-traveler.

_"I won't say it's justified. It's premeditated– I entered that room fully knew what I was going to do, but Kid... I wouldn't have... took that road had they stopped with just me."_

Gold eyes had burned brighter with the remnant of old fury.

_"They tried to involve Karin and __Yuzu__. Apparently, I wasn't cooperative enough... just because I chose to risk my neck in my hometown and __Rukongai_ _instead of staying nearby like a good guard dog–"_

The silence after that had been stifling. Kisuke, after a few moments of deliberation, had then asked why he had so easily talked about a dissection with the shopkeeper when he had experienced _unpleasant_ things under the hands of other scientists.

_"Water under the bridge; they can't touch me and my family here. Besides, it's _you_. I can talk about that around you because I _know _you won't ever do that to me."_

Still, he had conducted the rest of the tests a bit more carefully after that – at least until the young man had rolled his eyes in exasperation and _poked_ him between the eyes, before telling him to _stop treating me like a glass and get on with it, for gods' sake_.

The tests after that had then brought him to the second most unsettling thing about the time-traveler.

The young man's soul was no longer _human_.

It was, at first glance, a very silly thing to say. Even before he became what he was now, Kurosaki-_san_ was already a _shinigami_ with Hollow taint. _Of course _he wasn't human.

... but it wasn't the kind of _human _Kisuke meant.

_Shinigami_, Hollows, everything in between, Pluses, and even _togabito_, they all had the same root. They all came from human beings, once. There was a very small but intrinsic part in them that still screamed _human_, with all vices and virtues that one word entailed, no matter what became of them in the afterlife. Even those souls who were born in Soul Society had this particular characteristic within them. That quirk was the one which determined whether a soul was legible to enter the soul cycle or not – because it had been a rule since time immemorial that only _human souls _got to be reincarnated.

Kurosaki-_san_ – the time-traveling one – no longer had this part.

Oh, there were other kind of souls who didn't have it either – artificially-created beings such as modsouls, the _gikon_, and the Bounts to name a few, not to mention the naturally-occurred ones such as the often-referenced but rarely-seen _shinenju_, and _zanpakutō_ spirits – but none of them was remotely close enough to describe what the time-traveler had become.

_Shinenju_ was the closest classification Kisuke could propose given his current knowledge – a spirit that wasn't really a spirit, but an accumulation of memories given human form, just like the time-traveler wasn't quite a _true_ person but more of a clump of alternate _self_. Yet, the young man clearly wasn't a _shinenju_. A _shinenju_ was always surrounded by Blanks, for one. It also usually made up of memories from more than one dead souls – dead souls that lost in Dangai, either _shinigami_ or Pluses. The time-traveler, on the other hand, only had memories from one person, which was his past self, and _that _past self was obviously neither dead nor lost.

Still, he morbidly wondered what would happen if the time-traveler were to disappear for real; would they still remember, or would it be like with _shinenju_?

_Zanpakutō_ spirit was also out of the question. He _knew_ _zanpakutō_ spirits quite well, having done various research about them – not to mention Benihime was sometimes quite helpful when it suited her mood, _all the easier for you to spread your special brand of chaos, my dear Ki-_kun – and he was sure the young man wasn't one of them, even if he had merged with his _zanpakutō_ spirit for a final technique.

... And _that _opened another can of worms Kisuke _really _didn't want to think about right now, at least not until he could contact Isshin-_san_ and compare note – because unless Isshin-_san_ had lied to him that time, he was sure the supposed final technique didn't work that way, and it worried him that Kurosaki-_san_'s soul could be so warped like that...

_Although given how he was born–_

He shook his head.

Lastly, to call the young man artificial was so wrong it wasn't even funny. Artificial beings had one fundamental flaw that separated them from natural souls; their presences, for the lack of better word, were _pale_. It was as if they were the remnant of water-soluble paint that still clung onto the wall after a rain, compared to the vivid and vibrant colors painted by natural souls – or like newly-planted seedlings compared to deeply-rooted trees. The time-traveler, despite his apparent lack of tangible presence, was most certainly _not _a seedling.

Even if he couldn't rely on his senses, Kisuke trusted the results from his devices – and his devices said that the reason why Kisuke couldn't sense the young man's presence wasn't because he didn't have any, but because it had entrenched so deep into reality that it could completely mingle with its surrounding.

_It's as if he's–_

_'__–a tree, Ki-_kun_?__'_ came an amused voice from the depth of his mind.

_'Eh?'_

_'A tree, one among many of similar appearance – one you won't look at twice because unlike those ancient, majestic trees you may find across the world... this tree is so small and ordinary and simply not worth noticing... and yet, when you look below the surface... you'll see that this small and ordinary tree has its roots digging in so deep and branching out so far inside the soil.'_

Silence pervaded. Kisuke mulled over Benihime's words and decided that the _zanpakutō_ spirit might have a point there with her tree analogy. There was one thing that didn't settle right with him, however...

_'__Kurosaki__-_san _hardly looks small and ordinary, '__Hime__.'_

Benihime didn't reply right away, but he had a feeling that the princess would've swatted him upside the head with her fan just now had she had bothered to materialize.

_'__I wasn't talking about his body, Ki-_kun_,__' _came the respond, accompanied by a pout, and then a thoughtful silence that made Kisuke's instinct go _uh-oh_. _'__No, his body definitely isn't small and ordinary,__' _Benihime contemplated slowly, then before Kisuke could block her out, added in salacious tone, _'__I won't oppose having a bite one day... he looks tasty.__'_

It was one of those moments that sometimes made Kisuke question the wisdom of pairing _shinigami_ with _zanpakutō_ with matching personality – because Kisuke knew and fully acknowledged that he was a bit of a pervert, which meant that Benihime also had an _adventurous_ side hidden behind her paper-thin dignified-princess act, and being his opposite in the term of gender meant Benihime's fantasies were more often than not involving _men_, which was just _ack_.

He preferred them curvy, thank you very much.

_'__Now, Ki-_kun_, you don't hear me objecting when you're ogling that feisty ex-captain of yours–__'_

_'That's because I know you go both ways.'_

_'And you don't? We can experiment. That young time-traveler of yours–'_

_'That's just a friendly teasing.' _Kisuke was sure of it. The young man had just wanted to rile up his younger self.

_'__Ah.__'_ Benihime sounded honestly disappointed. _'__Are you sure–__'_

_'Yes.'_

She sighed, but then perked up shortly after. _'__No matter. I'm sure I'll be able to convince you one day. Imagine the fun, Ki-_kun_!__'_

_'...'_

Kisuke once again came into a realization that no matter how old he'd get, Benihime would always be able to make him feel like an awkward academy student all over again.

_'... Anyway, tree?'_

Benihime noticed his desire to go back to the more important topic, because her voice was serious when she answered, _'__Just like the tree, Ki-_kun_, the parts above the surface are all you're meant to see.__'_

_'What will happen if I look deeper?'_

The princess sounded amused. _'__You heard the young man when he said his _reiatsu _can grind a soul to dust. That's just the part above the ground, Ki-_kun_. Do you want to face the full brunt of _that _kind of power, roots and all?__'_

_'Ah. Not as harmless as a real tree, then?'_

_'No.'_

Kisuke fell silent, reread parts of the results, and felt his heart filled with a dawning sense of dread.

_'__Benihime__, what will happen when someone try to uproot that tree?'_

_'__Roots protect and strengthen the soil,__'_ Benihime said in lieu of a direct answer. _'__When you tear out a tree whose hold over the earth is _that _deep, _that _widespread...__'_

Kisuke could imagine the end result clearly.

_Instability, slow degeneration of the earth over the time – or even an outright destruction._

_'__Yes,__' _Benihime whispered, tone oddly somber.

_'It doesn't make sense,' _Kisuke pointed out. _'He had just appeared around two months ago; he _couldn't _have become _that... _involved with the worlds yet. I don't think it's long enough for the roots to take hold.'_

_'__Ah, but the young man's soul is warm and bright even when it's so tattered, and so someone took notice of it, prepared a good patch of soil, and coaxed and helped it to _settle down_... because it enamored him and he wished to keep it ever-burning.__'_

Kisuke latched to the crystal clear parts of the cryptic statement. _'Someone took notice? He? The spirit king?' _The time-traveler did imply that he had contact with the king in the future...

_'__My _ani-ue_.__'_

His mind screeched to a halt.

Ani-ue_, an archaic form to address one's own older brother, implying utmost respect._

_'... I didn't know you have an older brother.'_

_'__He's not. Not in the human sense,__' _Benihime replied slowly. _'__But he's been around for a very long time, and many of us hold him in a very high regard.__'_

_'And he thinks __Kurosaki__-_san _is important.'_

_'... Yes.'_

_'And how do we know that his interest is for the best?' _Kisuke asked suspiciously. _'If he's another like __Kyōka_ _Suigetsu_–_'_

Because Aizen wouldn't have been able to get _that _far without his _zanpakutō_'s support–

_'_Ani-ue _plots and plans from the shadow, yes, but he still deals with reality. He's _nothing _like __Kyōka __Suigetsu__,__' _Benihime cut off, her disgust palpable in the way she hissed the infamous _zanpakutō_'s name. _'__Kyōka __Suigetsu __was a fool. She spent too long masking herself with what wasn't real so much that she deluded herself in the end.__'_

_'So, you think he's... good?'_

A soft chuckle floated from the depth of his mind. _'__He isn't good or bad. He just _is_, but yes... if you see it from humans' point of view... everything he's done is for the best of the universe– which brings us to the real problem, Ki-_kun–_'_

_Ah, yes. _Kisuke looked down once again at the stack of papers in his hands, the reason why he had asked about _uprooted tree..._

_'Something has been actively trying to... remove him.'_

_Chunks of _reishi _in the body disappear at random interval_, one passage said.

_Disappear. Not just used up, or transformed into free _reishi_, but disappear, as in _completely gone.

–_which is supposed to be impossible, because _reishi _in the body forms _reiryoku_, and _reiryoku _is energy, and energy just don't _disappear _like that._

_'__Energy in _isolated _system, Ki-_kun_,__' _Benihime reminded him gently. _'__He's not even a part of that system, so that law doesn't apply in this case.__' _She sighed. _'__He's an anomaly in the universe. When he said he has no right to exist, Ki-_kun_... it's not just a figure of speech or him being dramatic. He's a glitch, so to speak, and when you find a glitch–__'_

_'–you fix it, try to remove the glitch.' _Kisuke finished. _'So, your brother thinks he could be important for the universe and tries to keep him alive, yet the universe itself doesn't recognize him as a part of it and tries to erase him.'_

Kisuke paused and mulled over the scenario.

_'It's like a tug of war– and currently, it's in the universe's favor.'_

_'__But the universe's advantage over my _ani-ue_'s __effort is very small, and with enough leverage...__'_

_'You're sure your brother can win.'_

_'__He's good at gaining foothold on the steepest cliffs,__' _Benihime replied, tone a bit dry.

_'So, you need a leverage... and __Kurosaki__-_san – _the younger – also has asked me to help keeping the older one from being completely erased.'_

_'__One of the _gigai _prototypes you've made... the one that would prevent a soul from losing its form–__'_

_'It's incomplete,' _Kisuke told her. _'Besides, I don't think it'll work for this case.'_

_'__Yes... even if that model is finished, it still won't be enough. Your current knowledge isn't enough,__' _Benihime confirmed. _'__But I know a method that can work... just a small addition to the _gigai_'s __structure on top of other personal specifications you'd need to get from the young man.__'_

Kisuke hummed, tapping his chin with the papers in his hands. _'This isn't a common knowledge among _shinigami, _is it?'_

_'__No,__' _the princess admitted.

_'As for __Kurosaki__-_san_... this method will have no debilitating effect for him?'_

Because he had ethics, even if they didn't normally conform to most people's standard, and Kurosaki-_san_ had been through _a lot_–

_'No to both of them.'_

_'Both?'_

_'__They're linked to each other,__' _Benihime answered curtly.

... Which meant there's a probability of the younger one receiving a backlash if something happened to the older one.

Kisuke made a decision. It wasn't a hard one.

_'Tell me.'_

Deep inside the shopkeeper's mind, Benihime smiled behind her fan.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_First of all, I'd like to say thanks to the reviewers of the previous chapter._

_Oh, and have I told you that __this story is also available in AO3? Had been since December, actually. The link to my AO3 account can be found in my profile.  
_

_In case you miss it, this interlude takes place right after both Ichigo were kicked out of the lab and told to wait in the living room in previous chapter.  
_

_So, yeah. Future!Ichigo is apparently a tree. Just because._

_Anyway, the plot thickens! A new player has come to town, although his name isn't mentioned yet. __And __m__ore secrets are unveiled (or not)_. This is where we'll veer wildly out of canon's path.

_Lastly, review, people.  
_

_**~Keylan Raith**_


	8. Chapter 4: Family Reunion

___**Disclaimer:**_ _I don't own Bleach; Kubo Tite does. I do, however, own the idea and plot behind this story._

**___Public Service Announcement: _**___The old poll has been deleted due to several reasons. A new poll has been posted as of April 13, 2013, listing 10 possible pairings for the older Ichigo only. Take your time to vote up to 2 choices._

* * *

**Butterflies, Hurricanes**

**Chapter 4 - Family Reunion**

_It actually... feels nice._

As they exited the _sh__ō__ten_, he experimentally stretched and flexed the muscles on his limbs. He could feel it when he moved, the absence of kink – either physical or spiritual – in the body. His _reiryoku _circulated oh-so easily – like a steady stream of pure water, ready and _eager _at his beck and call, instead of the trapped and _sulky_ sludge it had felt like the last time he had worn a _gigai_.

_It actually feels better than the one future __Kisuke__ created._

_... And that's just _weird_. Isn't the future version supposed to be the more advanced one?_

For a moment he wondered what made it different, before deciding that it wasn't his business to question how the scientist built things. The _gigai _worked perfectly for him, period, and that's all he needed to know.

_If only it could also–_

He stopped himself before his gaze could land on his right hand – the hand that currently hung limply at his side, fingers frozen in half-curled position as if closing around an invisible hilt.

_A sword I can never put down, eh...?_

It might be hidden from naked eyes, but he could still feel every part of it as keenly as when he was in spirit form – the weight, the feel of the black glove that bound his hand to the blade, the cold touch of the chain winding up his arm, the sure knowledge that _no, he would never be able to get rid of this particular stigma, ever–_

_Get over it_, he told himself firmly, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. _Spilled milk and all..._

It was then that he realized that his younger self was staring at him. He carefully arranged his expression to neutral-and-slightly-bored and quirked an eyebrow.

"Good?" the Kid asked, hand gesturing awkwardly at him, or to be more exact, the _gigai _he was occupying. His tone indicated that he'd double back and do _something _to the scientist if the answer wasn't satisfying enough.

He held back a wry grin that had almost formed at that – _really, who's trying to protect who, here?_ – and instead nodded. "Good."

The Kid visibly relaxed. "_Good_. So... home next?"

He nodded easily. "Home next," he echoed. "But there's one thing you have to consider."

The younger male eyed him warily. "You're not going to go back on your promise–"

"Brat, no," he interrupted, flicking the Kid's forehead for emphasis. "I was just going to say that Mashiba district is crowded at this time of day."

The Kid grumpily rubbed his forehead. "And it's important because...?"

"I don't feel like having a chance meeting with anyone that can recognize us on sight," he paused, gave his younger self – who was still in spirit form – a cursory glance, and amended, "recognize _me _on sight."

"All of our friends are in class right now," the Kid pointed out.

"I'm not talking about only our friends here. I'm talking about people who can recognize us. We always walk through that district every school days for almost four years already, after all," he replied. "'Sides, _you _sometimes skip class and cross the town to slay Hollows; who's to say Chad and the others won't do the same and accidentally see us there? And can you imagine the likes of that Ōshima guy staying in class instead of running around the town bullying smaller kids?"

The Kid blinked. "Who's Ōshima?"

He glanced weirdly at the younger male. "He's the one with bleached hair and piercings. The one who keeps accusing you copying his looks? One of the guys you got into a brawl with during the first day of high school?"

"... Ah, right. Now that you mention it, I distinctly remember someone like that."

He wouldn't hit his face with his own palm. He _really _wouldn't.

The Kid didn't notice his dilemma and went on, "So, you don't want to be seen by those people right now. Okay, I get that; it'd be too much of a hassle if someone starts asking questions... what do you think we should do, then?"

"South's just old apartment buildings and houses," he said instead of giving straight answer. "People rarely hang out there."

The Kid took on a thoughtful look. "South... then follow the railroad until we hit the river?"

"Yeah."

The Kid nodded to himself. "Okay, let's go then."

"Let's." He stretched for the last time, jogged lightly until he was a couple of steps ahead of the Kid, and turned around so they were face to face.

The Kid gave him a quizzical stare, and he smirked.

"Race you."

"Wh–"

He had already took off in the fastest _shunpo _he could muster before the Kid could finish his reply.

* * *

Bits of grass and dirt were still stuck on his clothes even after he had repeatedly dusted himself off, and Kazuha gave it up as a bad job all around. He pulled up the hood of his outer wear until it sufficiently hid his vibrant locks from view, snickering under his breath as he caught the sight of his disgruntled younger self. The Kid – _Ichigo__, he's __Ichigo__ to you now_ – looked even worse than him, with additional bits of grass and dirt on disheveled hair, and dirty smudges on his face and _shihakush__ō_.

His amusement apparently didn't go unnoticed, because the K–_Ichigo _suddenly looked up and sent him a very venomous and slightly sulky glare.

"You _cheated_."

"Nuh-huh. I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Shut up! You totally did!"

They were walking side-by-side under the mid-autumn sun, his internal clock told him it was almost lunch time. The street was unsurprisingly empty, seeing as it was still a workday. He idly wondered if life had continued as usual at home during Ichigo's absence, and what kind of cover story his father would tell to his sisters. A small pang of guilt hit him at the thought of his sisters, and he hoped his particular act of _borrowing _their brother without permission hadn't give them too much stress.

"I would've won if you _hadn't _tackled me," his younger self muttered beside him, obviously still a bit worked up.

He shook himself out of his brief musing to pay attention to the scowling teen, and sighed in disappointment when he caught the _unfounded _accusation. "Really, Ichigo. Blaming others for your clumsiness is not a good habit, you know."

Their impromptu race had ended earlier on the riverbank. Ichigo, being a sore loser, had claimed that he had been sabotaged, which was _silly_, because _of course _Kazuha wouldn't ever do something so underhanded like that. It _wasn't _his fault that Ichigo was so clumsy as to stumble over thin air during the race – and _of course _it was a _coincidence_ that Kazuha had just happened to fall onto him at the same time, resulting in the teen's unfortunate tumble down a slightly muddy slope.

... It was all just an accident, _really_.

Ichigo growled at the insinuation. "I'm _not _clumsy."

"Yes, you are."

The teen surprisingly didn't immediately rise to the bait. "_If _I'm clumsy, then so are you," he retorted smugly.

"Oh, no. It didn't work that way," Kazuha instantly refuted. "Any clumsiness _I_ might or might not have had been erased after two decades of fighting deadly battles in various terrains. I'm as graceful as Byakuya when he walks out of the field after a curbstomp. You, on the other hand, are only as graceful as... 'Ryū when he arrived at his own wedding ceremony."

Ichigo glared, opened and closed his mouth a few times, and scowled even more when he couldn't find a suitable comeback. Kazuha grinned faintly and flicked his younger self's forehead.

"Stop pouting."

"I'm _not _pouting."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Shut up! I _am _not!"

He chuckled at the teen's indignant shout, then ruffled the teen's head and slung his left arm over the teen's shoulders before the teen could do more than yelp. Ichigo grumbled and huffed, but didn't try to shrug him off. In fact, Kazuha felt the teen shifted his steps a bit closer a few moments later. A sudden pang of wistfulness hit him at this.

_He's... just like them._

He let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh.

_I... miss their presences. I miss the way they make me _belong_._

_... I miss _them_._

Yet, there was nothing he could do about _them _right now, so he shook himself out of his brief funk before he became too noticeably worked up. He'd just have to pay a visit to Kisuke sometimes later to discuss the logistics of reviving what could be considered as a small army–

"We're here."

He looked up at Ichigo's quiet words and found that indeed, they had reached Kurosaki Clinic. The clinic was devoid of patients, from what he could see through the door. The twins' _reiatsu _were nowhere nearby, confirming his suspicion that they must've been still at school. His father's presence, on the other hand, was like a beacon for those who knew how to look, blazing steadily from the direction of the back room. The brief flicker in Ichigo's suppressed _reiatsu _told him that the teen had also sensed the lone occupant of the house. They stood awkwardly outside the clinic for a few moments afterward, alternatively glancing at the doorbell and each other, before Kazuha rolled his eyes and briskly stepped forward.

"Let's just get this over with."

He rang the doorbell.

* * *

There was an odd sort of stand-off going on in the front of Kurosaki Clinic that noon.

Ichigo watched from the sideline, transfixed. On one side, in the middle of the road, stood his casually-dressed older self, his slouching stance didn't quite match the blank expression he wore on his face. On the other side, framed by the clinic's half-opened entrance, was someone whom the neighbors would've recognized as the goofy but competent Dr. Kurosaki – had he not looked like a grim-faced _edo__-__jidai _swordsman about to go into a battle.

Were it any other day, he would've marveled at the changes in his father's attitude, but currently he was just too nervous to take in more than the barest details. His father, the _shinigami _ex-captain – _and_ he still _couldn't_ just wrap his mind around it – gave him a brief once-over, before turning his gaze back to his older self and said in a carefully measured tone, "You kept your promise."

Ichigo blinked. _Wait. What?_

Apparently, he was the only one out of the loop, because there was no surprise in Kazuha's expression as he tilted his head to the side and replied, "_Aa_, so I did."

... _Seriously, what?_

His father kept his intense gaze at Kazuha. "That's really how you look like," he said wonderingly.

Kazuha dipped his head a bit in confirmation, before piping up dryly, "You have to excuse the hair. It's hard to find a hairdresser in my time."

Ichigo saw his father's expression lit up with comprehension, as if Kazuha's words had just confirmed something. It was a bit astounding, and unnerving to say the least. Logically, he knew that his father must've been secretly quite sharp, to be able to go from a Soul Society-born _shinigami_ with the barest knowledge of how living world operated to a very competent, _licensed _doctor. Yet his mind still couldn't quite reconcile that small tidbit of logic to the... _special_ image his father usually presented in the household.

"It would be interesting to test my and Engetsu's strength again against you," his father was saying, placing his hand on his _zanpakut__ō_'s hilt. Ichigo blinked, but then noted with relief that there was no aggression in the old man's posture.

It was just a request for sparring, then.

A challenging gleam entered Kazuha's eyes. "Anytime, _ossan_. I won't lose to you."

His father was wearing similar look in his eyes now. "Got a name, _gaki_?"

"Kazuha." An eyebrow was raised. "And it ain't '_gaki_'. I'm already over thirty."

His father snorted. "Still a _gaki _compared to me." He gave Kazuha another searching gaze. "You planning to stay, then?"

Kazuha gave a brief nod. "Ichigo insisted."

"If that's the case..." his father narrowed his eyes and intoned grimly, "you're grounded."

Ichigo swore he could hear crickets in the ensuing silence. Kazuha blinked several times, aloof expression melted away into one of subdued bewilderment, as if he didn't quite know what to make of the old man's statement. Several seconds passed with his older self soundlessly opening and closing his mouth, obviously trying to formulate a reply, before he finally settled on a very eloquent, "Whuh?"

"You're grounded for kidnapping a minor," his father reiterated, index finger pointed menacingly at Kazuha. Said finger was wagged a hairsbreadth away from his older self's nose when Kazuha made a protesting sound. "Don't talk back, young man! Be grateful that this offense doesn't rate bad enough to warrant cutting off your allowance."

Even standing several steps away, Ichigo could still hear Kazuha's confused mumble of _I have an allowance?_

"And you!" Ichigo blinked and went cross-eyed at the index finger which had suddenly appeared under his own nose. _When has his father moved closer? _He growled and swatted the offending digit away before it could accidentally poke his nostrils.

"What?"

His father crossed his arms. "You're also grounded."

Ichigo gaped. "What? What for?" he demanded.

"For going off with a stranger without a word!"

"Wh–" Ichigo sputtered, "the _hell, '__yaji_? _Going off_? He _kidnapped _me!" He emphasized this by pointing an accusing finger in the direction of his older self – the older self who, he noticed, had stopped looking like he'd just got slapped with a wet fish and had started making weird huffing noises.

"No more excuses!" his father shouted. "Disappearing like that for two months to frolic in the sand with a stranger... it's unacceptable! I thought I've taught you long time ago not to go off with older men you don't know even if they've offered you candies–"

"I didn't even have to offer him candies first," Kazuha, the traitor, piped up in suspiciously strained tone.

"–and he didn't even have to offer you candies first!" his father boomed, sounding scandalized. "I'm disappointed, son!"

Ichigo felt his throat make a sound that might or might not have been a gurgle. Something that suspiciously sounded like _snrk_ came from Kazuha's direction. He shook himself out of his Isshin-induced stupor and swatted at the ex-captain. Said ex-captain nimbly twirled away, and all Ichigo had accomplished was merely adding another thing for the man to wail about.

"–tried to _hit _me! _MASAKI__, OUR SON HAS GROWN INTO A RUDE DELINQUENT WHO NEVER LISTENS TO HIS POOR DADDY ANYMORE–!_"

"Shut it, _oyaji_!" Ichigo shouted in exasperation, trying to hit his father again and failing as his father once again skipped out of his reach.

"–_ALWAYS ANGRY AND __SCOWLY__ ALL THE TIME, TOO! OH, WHERE DID I GO WRONG–"_

_"Everything_ about you is _wrong_!"

"_–SO CRUEL–!_"

The teen threw his hands up in sheer frustration. He whirled around to face his older self and was about to demand help to curb his father's idiocy, but the sight that greeted him made him stopped before he could utter a word.

Kazuha had leaned against the wall opposite the clinic, silently watching the whole scene. His expression was – there was no other way Ichigo could describe it – _soft_.

If Ichigo were an utter sap _and _Kazuha weren't actually his alternate self, he even would've called it beautiful.

He looked away from the sight, feeling a bit embarrassed all of sudden, and met the gaze of his father. There was a look of smug satisfaction on the old man's face as he sent Ichigo a conspiratorial wink.

Ichigo rolled his eyes and replied with a punch to the face. This time, his father didn't dodge.

"... I'll let you off just this once, you stupid old man."

* * *

Kurosaki Karin was only one block away from home when she finally felt it.

It was just a small flicker, ghosting on the edge of her untrained sense – faint and hard to pin down and not at all like the overflowing, encompassing presence she had gotten used to for as long as she remembered – but she couldn't have mistaken it for anything else.

She sneaked a glance at her twin. Yuzu, just as she had thought, didn't look like she had felt a thing. In fact, her twin was still looking downtrodden, just like she always had been ever since autumn had rolled in to replace summer and _he _still hadn't come home.

Karin frowned. Her twin's adoration for their older brother was a bit worrying sometimes.

She put her hands in her pockets and tilted her head, trying to catch the elusive feel again, just in case she had just imagined things the first time. To her relief, it was still there, coming from the direction of their home. However, there was something a bit different about it; the presence felt a bit lighter somehow – almost _playful_.

She shook her head. It didn't matter. The important thing was that it was _there_, not missing like it had been for the last two months. She grabbed Yuzu's hand and tugged at it to make her walk faster.

"Come on, Yuzu. We need to welcome someone home."

"Welcome someone? Ah, do you mean _onii__-__ch_– K-Karin-_chan_!" Yuzu squeaked when Karin pulled her harder instead of answering.

"You'll see for yourself, Yuzu–"

They skidded to a halt in front of the clinic – or to be more precise, Karin skidded to a halt while her twin bumped into her back. She immediately rushed into the house, pausing only to take off her shoes. Dimly she heard her twin scrambling after her, which she ignored. The presence felt stronger inside the house, but as far as she could see, there was no one on the first floor.

A dull thud resounded from the second floor, causing her to look up. It was followed shortly by what sounded like a hushed argument. Another thud was heard, accompanied by a muffled laugh and the sound of a door slammed open. Soon after there was a series of hurried footsteps running down the stairs–

Karin felt her breath caught as the owner of the footsteps came into full view.

_He _wasn't Ichi-_nii_.

He somehow looked like an older Ichi-_nii_, sure – taller, somehow wearier, with longer hair – but he felt all wrong. In fact, Karin couldn't even detect the _presence_ she'd always associated with Ichi-_nii _from him.

Yuzu gasped behind her, and not-Ichi-_nii_ looked up. It was then Karin realized that he had been fumbling with a nondescript box in his hands ever since he'd come down the stairs a few moments ago. He hadn't paused at all even after Yuzu's gasp drew his attention.

"Karin," the not-Ichi-_nii_ said in level tone, while his hand was busy removing a few things from the box and stuffing them into one of his hoodie's pockets, "Yuz–_urk_!"

Karin blinked, not quite catching what had happened. One moment the not-Ichi-_nii _was still standing, the next he was flat on the floor, and there, straddling his back, was–

"Those chocolates are _mine_!" Tan hands snatched the box in not-Ichi-_nii_'s grip. Karin watched, wide-eyed, connecting those hands to a very familiar figure that had been missing since summer–

"... Ichi-_nii_–"

"_Onii__-__chan_!"

Ichi-_nii_ – and he was _real_ and _there_ – looked up sharply, a sheepish expression overtook his face when he realized that he had audiences. That in itself was strange; before summer, Ichi-_nii_ would've scowled instead of showing such expression.

"Hey, Karin, Yuzu–"

"Are you going to get off, or are you too comfortable to do even that?" a voice demanded.

Ichi-_nii_ looked down and immediately scrambled away, apparently just realized that he had been sitting on top of someone the whole time. The not-Ichi-_nii_ got up and dusted off his clothes, while Ichi-_nii_ stood awkwardly to the side.

"So, Karin, Yuzu..." he gestured at the direction of not-Ichi-_nii_, "that's Kazuha. He's–"

"Cousin," the familiar-looking stranger spoke up. "Nice to meet you."

Karin narrowed her eyes. She was sure that they didn't have any cousin. She took one look at Ichi-_nii_'s direction. He didn't seem surprised at the blatant lie. Could it be that this person had something to do with his brother's _shinigami _business?

"Really?" Yuzu piped up. "Are you going to stay here from now on?"

Karin risked one look at her twin's direction, and found a starry-eyed expression. She rolled her eyes. _Great, __Yuzu's__ enamored already._

Their not-cousin – _Kazuha__? __Kazu_-nii_? _– nodded and gave her twin a smile. Karin had to admit that it looked nice. "Apparently, yes."

Yuzu beamed and clapped her hands. "Then, I'll start preparing for a big dinner tonight–"

"_Wait._"

The three of them stilled, and as one turned to face the only other male in the room. Her brother was looking down at the box in his hands, his expression unreadable.

"There are supposed to be _ten_ pieces here," Ichi-_nii _said dully. "There are only _six _now. _Four _are missing."

"Are you sure?" Kazu-_nii _sidled up closer with worried expression, as if he hadn't been the one who had swiped the missing four off the box earlier. "Are you sure that you didn't just miscount?"

Ichi-_nii _glared. "I'm sure, you _chocolate-stealer_."

Kazu-_nii_ gave an innocent blink and carefully spread his hands, palms upward. "My hands are empty."

Ichi-_nii_'s eyes narrowed. "I'd bet one of your pockets isn't."

The older male blinked again, and took a deliberate step backward. Ichi-_nii_ narrowed his eyes even more–

"Now, Ichi– _hey_!"

–and snaked his free hand with surprising speed into the left pocket of Kazu-_nii_'s hoodie. Kazu-_nii_ reflexively clamped his own fingers around Ichi-_nii_'s wrist, but it was already too late. From the glint that suddenly entered Ichi-_nii_'s eyes, it looked like his fingers had found something.

"Wh– _how _the hell do you know which one– _what_ are _you_, a _chocolate-sniffer_?" Kazu-_nii_ demanded while trying to pry Ichi-_nii_'s fingers from his ill-gotten goods. Yuzu giggled behind her, and squeaked when both males started a mock-brawl right there on the bottom of the stairs. An unexpected sound then rang, startling her and her twin.

It was the sound of their brother's laugh.

Karin felt something inside her loosened at that sound. Her gaze unknowingly slid toward the stranger-but-not that had appeared among their family.

If he could make her brother laugh like that, she guessed he's alright – even thought she still didn't believe his bullshit about being their cousin.

* * *

"Karin is suspicious."

"That's not surprising. She's always been perceptive. She's also been suspecting about you being _shinigami _since around that time with Don Kanonji, by the way."

"... I see."

"She'd probably confront you soon."

"What should I do?"

"... It's up to you. She's _your_ sister, after all."

"... You're _really _not helping, you know that?"

"Why, glad you'd noticed."

"... Bastard."

"... Brat."

"Yuzu seems ecstatic to have another person to feed."

"I know. I can't wait to taste her cooking again, to tell you the truth. In my time, the only edible thing the army could get was the field rations produced by the Logistics Division, and those stuff tasted like congealed lumps of overcooked misery – or so my _kagemusha _reported."

"... Uh–"

"... _Yes_, it's that terrible. Made me kinda glad I hadn't been able to eat _reishi_-based foods."

"That's another thing I still don't get. How did you... you know, stay in fit condition when you hadn't been able to eat anything at all?"

"... I can actively absorb _reishi _through my skin to replenish my energy."

"... Really?"

"Yeah, it's quite neat – kinda like how earthworms breathe."

An incredulous silence followed that profound statement. The younger of the two lifted his head to _stare _at his companion, who looked as if he'd just said nothing out of the norm. He sighed at the older male's brief moment of weirdness and tried to lie down once again, but no matter how he positioned his limbs, they couldn't quite manage to avoid colliding with the other's.

It started to irritate him.

"... You know, Kazu... don't you think it had become a bit too cramped on the bed?"

"Really? I hadn't notice at all. It looks like there is still plenty of space to me."

"Plenty of space my ass – get off my bed!"

Kazuha laughed from his place against the wall, but made no move to get up. Ichigo huffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms to show his irritation. He heard Kazuha's laughter receding beside him, and he risked a glance at the older male's direction.

What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

There was that _soft _expression again, directed at him this time. Burning gold had darkened into warm amber, and the beginning of a smile was teasing the corners of the older male's lips.

Ichigo found he couldn't look away.

The moment last far too long and far too brief; Ichigo opened his mouth to ask _what are you thinking_, and it was then that Kazuha moved, snaking him arms around Ichigo and pulling him into a tight embrace.

"K-Kazu, wha–"

"_Thank you_."

It was whispered so fiercely against the crook of his neck. Ichigo swallowed and gripped the back of Kazuha's shirt in return at the strangely vulnerable tone.

"Thank you," Kazuha repeated, in a softer tone this time. Ichigo felt a hand ruffling his hair, and this time he didn't mind. "Thank you... for asking me to come home with you."

Silence followed as Ichigo tried to find something to say. He opened his mouth and managed to stutter out, "You're welco–"

"_Onii__-__chan_! Kazu-_nii__-__chan_! Dinner's rea– _eek!"_

Both males hurriedly separated themselves, the previous mood thoroughly broken as they swiveled to face the doorway at the same time, both barely catching the sight of Yuzu's fluttering skirt as she fled.

Ichigo sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Whose bright idea is it to keep the door open?"

Kazuha gave a snort, stretching before jumping off the bed. He seemed to have miraculously gotten out of whatever strange funk he was in earlier, because his tone was taunting when he said, "Come on, Brat. Dinner. You'd need it to grow taller."

Ichigo made a half-hearted swipe, which the older male evaded. He shook his head as Kazuha skipped out of the room, chuckling all the way.

"... Bastard."

* * *

**Omake**

Karin looked up from the TV when she heard a faint squeak from the second floor, followed by a series of footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later, her twin rushed into the kitchen and started fixing dinner in an almost mechanical motion.

"Yuzu? What's wrong?"

The light-haired twin froze at her question, slowly turned around, and looked up, showing her blazing-red face.

"F-forbidden love," she whispered.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_First, thanks for everyone who had reviewed during my absence. Sorry for the long wait (almost two months?).__  
_

_So yeah, update. If you think that the last two scenes seem a bit rushed, that's because they were._

_Kazu's__ situation's just like... what happens in canon with __Facebooker__, only inverted – from now on it'd be __Ichi__ telling __people that, "Yes, he's my cousin, really" – and without excessive __mindrapes__. And now I'm wondering how __Kazu__ would fare in __Fullbring__ Arc... if I ever work it into this story, that is._

_About the __KazuIchi__ moment... it wasn't intended as __slashy__. No, really. I won't pair them up without a buffer between them. Maybe. 'Sides, __Kazu's__ in his thirties, and __Ichi's__ not even out of his teen years – __Kazu__ just can't think of __Ichi__ that way._

_Another thing: 30 __favs__ & 48 follows, but only 27 reviews for 7 chapters? Come on, where the hell are the rest of you guys?_

_Oh, and don't forget to send some love to my new story, **Between Home and Final Destination**._

_**~Keylan **__**Raith**_


End file.
